Hawaiian Adventures  GilliganStyle
by TereseLucy384
Summary: This story focuses on Gilligan's memories of his life and friends in Honolulu.  Snippets of MAG included.  Okay . . . maybe more than "snippets" ;
1. Ice Cream ShowDown

Hi. This series of adventures will focus on Gilligan's life in Honolulu and the friends he made there. I do realize that, when talking about Donny, the term Downs Syndrome was not commonly used in the 60's; however, it is a term I am more comfortable with, so please forgive me for using "poetic license" and continuing with this term. Also, while touring Honolulu and Waikiki, I may mention shops or locations that may or may not have been active in the 60's. They are places I am familiar with, so again, claim "poetic license". My goal is not to offend or upset anyone; only to tell an entertaining story. Thanks for your patience.

Lu

* * *

><p>"Hi, Skipper. Hi, Professor. Whatcha doing?" Gilligan was walking around the corner of the hut, and the other two men were up on ladders examining the roof.<p>

"Hi, Gilligan" answered the Professor. "We're trying to fix a little leak that I have developed. Well . . . my roof has" He added, seeing Gilligan giggle at the thought of the Professor developing a leak.

"She's down by her garden area, digging up some taro root." Skipper said.

"Who? What are you talking about?" asked Gilligan.

Skipper laughed. "I saw your eyes scan the clearing. I'm guessing you were looking for pigtails and big brown eyes."

"What? MaryAnn? Why would I be looking for MaryAnn?" Gilligan squeaked, trying very hard to look convincing. Actually, he had been thinking of MaryAnn all day, but wouldn't admit that to them. "Don't you want me to help with the roof?"

"NO" they both shouted.

"Okay, fine. I'll go find MaryAnn then." And he walked away towards the garden, muttering under his breath. "Think they're so smart. Looking for MaryAnn. Who says I was looking for MaryAnn? Why would I be looking for MaryAnn anyway?" He was still muttering to himself as he approached the garden. He looked around but didn't see MaryAnn anywhere. He was about to call out to her when he heard her voice coming from behind a clump of bushes.

"Hi Gilligan. I'm back here"

He looked around the bush, and there she was, on her knees, digging up some taro roots. Her pigtails had come loose, and she had a smudge on her cheek. Gilligan thought she looked gorgeous. His heart skipped a beat. He was a little worried that she could hear it pounding, so he talked loudly to cover the sound.

"Hi. Want some help?" he yelled.

MaryAnn laughed. "Why are you yelling?"

"Oh, uh, I dunno" he said sheepishly, as he tried to slow his breathing down and get himself under control. What was the matter with him anyway?

"I'm just about done here." She said. "I'm going to bring these roots back to my kitchen, and then go over to the waterfall. I want to clean up a little. Would you like to keep me company?"

Gilligan's imagination exploded at the thought of MaryAnn washing under the waterfall. "Uh, sure" He picked up the basket for her and carried it back to the clearing. Skipper saw them coming back and nudged the Professor with a grin on his face. Gilligan saw them watching and shot them a scowl, which only made them laugh. MaryAnn was oblivious to the exchange as she was chattering happily about her garden back in Kansas. He looked back at her and tried to focus on what she was saying, but her brown eyes distracted him and he tripped over his feet sending the basket of vegetables flying.

MaryAnn stopped and smiled gently at him. "Why don't you pick these up and go put them on my work table. I'm going to get my swimsuit on and meet you back here." Gilligan picked up the veggies and delivered them to the work table, then scooted into his hut to put on his swimsuit. He glared at the other men as he walked by daring them to laugh again.

When he came out of the hut, MaryAnn was waiting for him. She had a basket of cleansing items, a couple of towels and a smile on her face at the thought of heading down to the waterfall with Gilligan. "Come on, Gilligan." She said. "I can't wait to wash up." He nodded and avoided the eyes of Skipper and the Professor. He could feel them watching him as he walked away, and he knew that they were chuckling. His ears turned red.

Once they were back in the jungle, Gilligan started to feel a little more at ease. They chatted about nothing and everything as they walked along. MaryAnn told him about a river near her uncle's farm and how, after working in the garden on a hot summer day, she would walk down to the river and go for a dip. Gilligan allowed himself a brief moment to envision that while he walked; of course, that resulted in him not watching where he was going and hitting a low-hanging branch. MaryAnn giggled.

When they got to the little waterfall, she took some shampoo and soap into the water with her. "You coming in?" she asked, looking back at him over her shoulder. Then she ducked under the water and started lathering up. Gilligan tried hard not to watch and just swam around at the base of the falls until she finished washing. The Professor had made a new batch of shampoo containing papaya and coconut. Gilligan thought nothing smelled better as MaryAnn swam up to him.

"MaryAnn, you've been talking about Kansas a lot today. Are you missing home?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little, I guess." She answered. "Will you tell me a story? Something to distract me. I know, why don't you tell me about living in Honolulu. What was that like? Who were your friends?"

Gilligan smiled. He had loved living in Honolulu and had made some very good friends there. "Sure, let's go spread our towels out over there and lay in the sun" he suggested. So they walked out of the water and settled down on their blankets. Gilligan tried hard to think of a story and not how pretty MaryAnn looked, all glistening with droplets of water. MaryAnn tried hard to focus on anything other than how cute Gilligan looked sitting next to her, all glistening with droplets of water.

"I know" he said finally. "I'll tell you about Ice-Cream Show-Downs."

"Ice-Cream Show-Downs?" she giggled. "That sounds fun."

"Yup" he grinned. "Me and Donny would play. Donny and his mom lived in the apartment below me. She had a regular babysitter for him during the week. But sometimes on the weekends, if she picked up an extra shift at the diner, she'd ask me to babysit him."

"That's sweet, Gilligan. How old was he?" she asked.

"He was 12. He just turned 12 right before our shipwreck. We even had a party for him on the Minnow."

"Oh that's right." MaryAnn remembered. "Skipper told us about him. He had Downs Syndrome, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he was a special kid," Gilligan said with affection. "So anyway, sometimes I would babysit him on the weekends. His mom would try to get an evening shift so I could watch him after the Minnow got back to the docks.

So Donny loved ice cream, and he loved games, too. One day, we had gone to the theater over on Auahi Street to see a new cowboy movie. After that, we stopped at an ABC Store and bought silly cowboy hats and pretended we were cowboys all night."

MaryAnn remembered the ABC stores from her short time vacationing there. You could find just about anything in those stores. She giggled at the site of Gilligan and his young friend walking around Waikiki with bowed legs and cowboy hats and talking like ranch hands. "Keep going," she said. "Tell me more."

"So there we were, acting all tough and western," he said, grinning. "And we were passing by Alika's place. He had a little ice cream stand at the end of the beach. So we stopped and each got an ice cream cone. Donny got Strawberry. He ALWAYS got strawberry. I think that first night, I got vanilla.

"So anyway, he had his cone and I had mine, and it just sorta happened. We didn't plan it. He was standing facing me, and we took a couple of steps back – so we were standing about 10 feet apart. He squinted his eyes and I squinted mine. He held his cone out, and I held mine out. Alika was watching us, laughing. So he did a count-down. 5 – 4 -3 – 2 - - 1. And we both raised our cones and raced to see who could finish first.

It was close – Donny was a pretty fast ice-cream eater. At first I was gonna let him win anyway. But then when I saw how fast he really was, I really dug in. He beat me anyway. By the time we finished, we had quite a crowd around us." He was smiling at the memory. "We made it a Saturday night tradition. Sharon, his mom, would come, too, if she wasn't working. A lot of the locals would be there to cheer us on, and if we met tourists during the week and got friendly with them, we'd invite them, too."

"Aww, Gilligan. That's a wonderful story. I hope when we get rescued someday, I can meet Donny."

"Sure you can." Gilligan didn't even consider the thought of not ever getting rescued. He truly believed it would happen. "You can meet Donny and his mom, Sharon. And I'll take you to Alika's ice cream shack. If you feel like hiking, I can take you to the Makiki Valley. That place is real neat. You can hike in there for hours and hours and not see another person. And the zoo – I used to take Donny there, too. We have a friend there named Scotty. He sells plate lunches in the little tent across from the tigers. There's so many places I'd like to take you, MaryAnn."

Gilligan realized what he had just said. He panicked a little and wondered if he said too much. But he stole a glance at MaryAnn and she was smiling dreamily. "I'd like that Gilligan," she said. "I'd like that a lot."


	2. A Bottle for Margaret

After swimming and telling stories by the waterfall for most of the day, Gilligan and MaryAnn went back to the clearing to prepare dinner. After dinner, Gilligan asked Mr. Howell to teach him how to play cribbage. Mr. Howell agreed, while Skipper and Professor looked on. With the three men shouting directions and suggestions to Gilligan throughout the evening, he wasn't sure that cribbage was the game for him. He might just stick to Go Fish and SlapJack. Nevertheless, it was a lively evening in the compound with companionship, conversation and laughter.

That night, a storm ravaged the island. In the morning, MaryAnn found her garden in shambles. So she was quite preoccupied, putting things back together. She raked and cleaned and tried to salvage what plants she could. As she worked, her mind wandered and eventually settled where she knew it would . . . on a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed, dimpled sailor with a knack for chaos. She smiled absent-mindedly as she pictured him working on the Minnow . . . walking the beach at Waikiki . . . conking Skipper over the head with a bamboo post . . . stomping through the jungle . . . wildly beating invisible drums as he listened to the radio . . . sitting by the waterfall with his skin all tan and glistening . . . "Oh," she thought. "Where did that come from?" The more she tried to dislodge the image, the harder it stuck.

Meanwhile, back at the clearing, the men were busy, once again, repairing damages to the huts. As Gilligan seemed to be causing more damage than repairs, Skipper sent him to see if the lobster traps had been damaged. On his way, he swung by the garden area. "Hey MaryAnn" he called.

Considering what was on her mind, his voice made her jump. "Oh hi, Gilligan," she replied, a little distracted.

"Want to take a break?" he asked, as he leaned against a tree. "I'm going to check the lobster traps. Maybe with that storm, something interesting washed up on shore." He said hopefully.

MaryAnn had never been with him when he found the treasures that he always seemed to come back with. She had been working for hours and could certainly use the break. "Sure" she said, and she got up and brushed herself off.

Their walk through the jungle was filled with Gilligan's chatter. It was "Skinny Mulligan this" and "Florence Oppenheimer that". MaryAnn was happy that he was feeling so talkative. He kept her laughing with his different voices and antics while acting out his stories.

When they got to the shore, Gilligan pulled out the lobster traps. They weren't in bad shape at all and even had a few lobsters inside. He put them in the basket that was slung over his shoulder, and they continued on down the shore, heading to the lagoon. As they followed the coastline, MaryAnn was the first to spot the crate.

"Oooohh, look, Gilligan. There _is_ something! There's a crate there. Look" She was clapping her hands and jumping up and down. Gilligan started clapping, too, as her excitement was contagious.

He ran over and pulled it further onto the beach. It was about a foot high and unmarked. Gilligan started to loosen the boards and was able to pry off the top. He pulled out straw packing, and they both fell back into a sitting position with their mouths hanging open and starting to water. It was a case of root beer - 24 glass bottles of root beer!

They looked at each other and screamed in delight. They clapped and hugged and clapped again.

"Come on" Gilligan said. "Let's get this back to camp." They each took an end and worked their way back, too excited to talk much.

As they got closer to the clearing, Gilligan started to shout. "Hey Everyone – meet us at the table. We've got something!" He wanted to run, but was mindful that the crate was a little heavy for MaryAnn. Finally, they got there and lifted the crate up onto the table. The other castaways, hearing his shouts, were waiting for them.

"What is it, What is it?" Ginger was squealing. The Howells were hoping for cash, precious gems or even an updated issue of the New York Stock Exchange. The Skipper was hoping for a case of steaks, and the Professor was hoping for an inflatable raft or some other way off the island.

"Look, look, look!" Gilligan said as he ripped off the cover. "ROOT BEER!" He and MaryAnn were jumping up and down and clapping again.

"Root Beer?" Skipper grumbled. "That's it? Real beer maybe, but Root Beer?"

The Professor bowed his head and rubbed his hands over his eyes and Ginger deflated. Mr. Howell may have cried a little. With a little wave of her hanky, Mrs. Howell gave an "Oh, pooh" and retreated to her hut.

Gilligan and MaryAnn looked at each other and shrugged. "Let's put some in the stream to cool for dinner tonight, Gilligan," she suggested.

"Great idea, MaryAnn," he answered. And he grabbed 7 bottles and hurried off towards the stream.

That evening, Gilligan retrieved the bottles while MaryAnn and Ginger brought dinner to the table. After the initial disappointment, the other castaways were able to laugh the incident away and enjoy a cold root beer with their meal. Spirits were high, and the island family had a lively conversation flowing.

MaryAnn was the first to finish off her bottle. She had it in her hand and was about to set it on the table, when Gilligan's hand shot out and took the empty bottle. "I'll take that," he said. "It's a bottle for Margaret." At that precise moment, there was a lull in the conversation, so six pairs of ears picked up Gilligan's casual comment.

There was a chorus of "Who?", "What?", "Who's Margaret" and one "Gilligan, what are you talking about?" Gilligan looked around as he took the bottle from MaryAnn.

"Margaret." He said, as if everyone should know who she was. "She was a nice lady who lived in Honolulu. She took bottles in for refunds." That was all he seemed to want to say on the matter, so the others went back to their conversations. However, Gilligan noticed that, one by one, as they finished their root beers, they left the empty bottles in a pile in front of him.

After dinner, as the girls were cleaning up the dishes, Gilligan took the empty bottles and carefully placed them back in the crate. Then he grabbed another handful of full bottles and brought them to the stream to cool for the next day. Just thinking about it made him lick his lips.

Afterwards, he took a stroll through the jungle and collected a basket of fruit to bring back to the table for either an evening snack or possibly breakfast in the morning. While he walked, his mind drifted to Honolulu, to a certain conversation he had had with Margaret.

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><p>She was a nice lady and very easy to talk to. They were sitting on a bench by the waterway on Ala Moana Boulevard, not far from where they first met. A group of teenage girls was walking by, giggling, and Gilligan was watching them pass with a cautious look on his face. "Why are you so afraid of girls, William?" she asked softly. She was one of the few people, besides his parents, who called him that.<p>

He hung his head and shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled.

"Yes, you do," she chuckled. "Tell me about it," she said as she hooked her arm through his.

He sighed. "I had bad luck with girls since Junior High. There were some things that happened. Kids laughed at me a lot. Girls did, especially." He looked back up at the sidewalk and watched the girls, who had stopped to talk to two boys. Margaret didn't miss the look in his eyes.

"Do you think they were really laughing at you? Maybe they were just giggling about how cute you were," she offered.

"No," he said. "They were laughing at me. This one girl, in high school . . . she was a cheerleader and kind of snooty. I was walking by her in the hallway one day, and some kids ran by and bumped into me. I fell into her and knocked her books out of her hands. I said sorry, but she got so mad. She started yelling – at me, not them. They were her friends, so she yelled at me." He clenched his fists. Margaret put her hand on his and tried to calm him.

"So in the middle of the hallway, she just starts yelling at me. She said I was stupid and clumsy. And then she laughed and said that no girl would ever, ever want me for a boyfriend. Why did she say that? I didn't do anything to her. Why would she say that to me?" He looked at her with such a heartbroken face. "I know I'm not smart. I know I'm clumsy. I can't help it. I try . . . I do. Why don't girls like me?" Margaret hugged him and smiled.

"Someday, you're going to meet a wonderful girl, and she's going to see what a gem you are. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, William, but I promise. When you least expect it, she'll be there."

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><p>Gilligan was approaching the clearing again and snapped out of his reverie. The torches were lit and everyone was sitting in a circle of chairs around the campfire, talking and laughing. He saw that there was a bit of an opening by MaryAnn, so he dropped the basket of fruit on the table, grabbed a banana and went over to sit by her.<p>

She put her hand on his shoulder as he sat on the ground by her feet, peeling his banana and taking a huge bite. "There you are, Gilligan. We've been waiting for you. Tell us about Margaret. You made her sound so mysterious. Was she a pretty girl you knew?"

Gilligan choked on his banana and Mrs. Howell pounded on his back. "No. Gosh, no," he exclaimed. "She was just a nice lady I knew."

"Well, how'd you meet her?" Skipper asked. "Did I know her?"

"I don't think so," Gilligan said. "She lived in the park by the waterway."

"She lived IN the park?" asked Mrs. Howell. "Oh dear. How did that happen?"

"Well, she said it was a . . . a series of sad events. That's how she described it. She used to have an apartment, but after losing her job and getting sick, she couldn't afford it." He took another big bite of banana as he pondered his story. He also noticed that MaryAnn's hand was still on his shoulder, and it made him feel all warm inside.

"I met her one day, in town. She was pushing a baby carriage. That's what she kept her stuff in. Some kids rode by on bikes and knocked her carriage over, and her stuff spilled out. I stopped and helped her pick it up." He finished his banana and threw the peel into the campfire, watching it burn slowly.

"The nerve," exclaimed Mr. Howell. "Did the hooligans even stop?"

"No, they sure didn't," said Gilligan. "So I'm helping her, right, and there was this metal box that popped open. A picture was on the sidewalk, so I picked it up and handed it to her. It was a beautiful girl standing next to a horse. She said to me, 'hard to believe that was me, isn't it?' It sure was . . . hard to believe, I mean. Now, she's pretty old and wrinkled."

Ginger was thoughtful about this. "Sometimes, in Hollywood, I would pass by homeless people on the sidewalk. It's hard to remember that they are real people with lives and histories," she said sadly.

Gilligan nodded sadly. "So after we picked her stuff up, I walked back to the park with her, and she told me all about how she used to be a rodeo girl. When she got older, she moved to Oahu and worked on a ranch. But a few years ago, the owner of the ranch died and the son sold it and let all the workers go. Just after that, she got real sick, and then she couldn't find work. Just when she was starting to feel better, she got evicted. She couldn't get the landlord to wait 'til she found work."

_The scoundrel_, thought Mr. Howell.

Gilligan continued. "I thought it was a real sad story, but she was so nice. She told me that she collected bottles for the refunds, to help buy food, so I started collecting them for her, too."

The other castaways sat, staring into the fire, each lost in their own thoughts about this poor woman and the hard times that she suffered.

MaryAnn leaned over towards Gilligan and hugged him. "Gilligan," she said, "Has anyone ever told you what a gem you are?"


	3. PingPong, Ghosts and Alien Pods

The Lyons Arboretum and the haunted shed are real locations in Honolulu. Writing about them in this chapter brought back some wonderful memories . . . mostly of my husband scaring the daylights out of me!

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><p>When Gilligan stepped out of the jungle, after a two-day excursion, he was tired and hungry. He, Skipper and Professor had gone to the other side of the volcano to search for a new bamboo grove to harvest from. The other two men had stayed at the grove to fill up another pallet of bamboo, and Gilligan was dragging a small load behind him.<p>

Mrs. Howell was responsible for this latest project. She had recently recounted her exploits as a Table Tennis champion at the Ely School for Girls, and the idea to build a table drew enthusiasm from all the castaways. With the other men gathering bamboo to frame a table, Mr. Howell was helping Mrs. Howell sort through the salvage from the Minnow to see what could be used for paddles. They were fortunate to find a handful of small, thin, lightweight boards that could be cut down and shaped.

Meanwhile, Ginger and MaryAnn were combing through fauna and vegetation to find any seeds or pods that might be used for ping-pong balls. They had the harvesting basket, and it was almost half-full with possibilities.

The clearing was empty when Gilligan stumbled in. He left the bamboo at the edge of the jungle and crossed over to the water barrel. He dipped the cup in and downed the cool, clear water. He leaned back and poured a cupful of water over his head.

He didn't notice MaryAnn and Ginger coming around from the back of the huts. The girls glanced at each other with raised eyebrows and smiles. Ginger snickered, winked and took the basket from MaryAnn and continued over to their hut. MaryAnn sat up on the table with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands as she watched Gilligan drink. At that moment, with the cup up to his lips, he turned and saw her watching him. His eyes widened, and he spilled the water down the front of his shirt, making her laugh.

MaryAnn got off the table, clasped her hands behind her back and approached him with a coy smile. Gilligan dropped the cup and looked around nervously. "What are you . . . uh what . . . what are you smiling at?" he asked.

"You forgot your shaving kit," she observed. She reached up and laid her hand on his scruffy cheek with a nostalgic smile. "I remember when I was a very, little girl and my Daddy would get up in the morning, and before he'd shave, he would chase me around the house and catch me, and he'd tickle my cheek with his whiskers."

Gilligan blushed and grinned. He was a little surprised, as she didn't usually offer information about her parents, and he wondered what her reaction would be if he leaned down and rubbed his whiskers on her cheek. With that thought in his head, he blushed even more and ducked away from her. She chuckled, but he thought she might have had a bit of a sad look in her eye. He decided that, maybe, he wouldn't go shave . . . not just yet.

"Have you seen the Howells?" he asked. "I wonder how they're making out with the paddles." Just as the words were out of his mouth, Thurston Howell, III and his wife, Lovey, came hurrying into the clearing.

"There you are, Gilligan," cooed Mrs. Howell. "We have some suitable pieces to fashion into paddles. Do take care of that, won't you, dear boy?"

Gilligan grinned as he took the wooden pieces. "These are great. Sure, I'll get right on it. I can't wait 'til we can have a tournament." He ran into the supply hut to grab the Skipper's tool box.

"Gilligan," MaryAnn called. "I'm going down to the stream to do a little laundry. Why don't you bring those to work on and you can keep me company?"

"Uh, uh, okay," he agreed, and he scooped everything up in his arms and followed her through the jungle. They got to the little pool of water where MaryAnn preferred to do their laundry. As she set down to work, he spread the pieces of wood around him and started to examine them. He picked up one piece and started to shape it with the file. While he did this monotonous job, he chattered away with MaryAnn. After a few minutes, though, MaryAnn noticed that he was quiet. She looked up at him, and he was staring to his right. She shifted to see what he was looking at, which turned out to be a very pretty red flower.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm not sure what it's called. Something about a claw, I think."

"Why are you staring at it," she asked with a smile, wondering what he was going to come out with.

"I'm trying to remember where I saw those before. Give me a minute," he answered. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he started laughing. "Oooh yeah. I've got it." He said, "I remember now. It was at this garden – Lion something? Lion . . . I can't think of the word – it's one of those places where they covultate plants and stuff."

"Covultate?" asked MaryAnn, as she tried to decipher what he was trying to tell her. She thought for a minute "– Oh, maybe you mean "cultivate. An arboretum?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" he grinned. The Lyons Arberoreum"

She giggled. "Ar – bor- etum," she said, slowly.

"That's what I said," he insisted. "Anyway, I went there with Scotty, one day. He's a buddy of mine, and he's really into plants. Kinda like Professor, only instead of ferns, Scotty likes flowers. I met him at the zoo. There's a little tent across from the tigers with picnic tables, and Scotty sells plate lunches there."

"That's something I've heard you mention before," she said. "Plate lunches. What exactly are they?"

He laughed. "I think it's a Hawaiian thing. It's a plate with a scoop of sticky, white rice, some macaroni and cheese and then some meat. Different kinds – it could be chicken or beef. At the zoo, at Scotty's tent, I like the chicken."

"So how did you end up at the arboretum?"

"Well, see . . . Scotty heard about this place and wanted to go see it. He waited until we both had a day off, 'cause he wanted someone to go with. When we got there, the old guy selling tickets showed us the trail map and thought we might be interested in finding the 'haunted shed'. It was an old, abandoned gardening shed." Gilligan rambled on as he sanded down the paddle he was working on.

"There were lots of flowers, and Scotty knew the names to all of them. I really liked the claw one – this one here. I'm glad to see it on this island; this is the first time I've seen it here. Anyway, I told Scotty that this one looked like an alien claw, and then I spent the whole day pretending that aliens came down and planted these pods, and they put seeds in these red pods that grew into more aliens."

MaryAnn threw her head back and laughed loudly at this. "He must have been getting irritated with you," she suggested. But it certainly seemed like something Gilligan could entertain himself with for an entire day.

He ignored her laughing at him and continued with his narrative. "So it took us, like, over three hours to find the haunted shed, but we really found it. It was kind of off one of the trails, stuck back in the trees. When we saw it, everything kinda got reeaaaal quiet. Even the birds stopped singing. The air was hot and sticky and almost shimmery around the shed."

MaryAnn felt a shiver go up her spine. She stopped washing Ginger's dress, her hands clutching the material. "Was it really haunted, do you think?"

"Welllll," he said slyly, "Scotty dared me to go in. As I got closer, there was broken glass on the steps. The window in the door was broken and the door was kind of hanging off its hinges. I looked in and the roof was partly caved in. So I looked back at Scotty, and he was so sure that I'd chicken out, so I had to go in – I just had to. I took a couple of steps in through the door and looked around. It was so quiet in there. There were shadows . . . and some of the shelves had fallen . . . and there were gardening tools scattered around on the floor in the corner."

A bird squawked nearby. Gilligan jumped and sent the paddle flying into the water, and MaryAnn let out a shriek. Then they both looked around and laughed. "Don't stop now," she begged. "Tell me what happened!"

Gilligan laughed again as he swished through the water to find the paddle. He located it, shook it off and sat back down with her. "So I'm standing there looking around, and I'm thinking, 'this isn't so bad.' Then I leaned back out the door to tell Scotty to come in, and he was GONE. I called his name, but he didn't answer. I came out and walked all the way around the shed and still didn't see him. So I was standing there on the steps, peeking in and then looking back over my shoulder. I called his name again, and then I heard a shuffle inside the shed. I stuck my head in the door to see if he was in there, and suddenly . . . there was a loud clattering on the roof! I screamed and jumped back. Scotty popped out from behind a tree with a handful of pebbles. He had been hiding and throwing them on the roof. He laughed pretty hard, but I slugged him a good one on the shoulder." With that, he grinned proudly.

MaryAnn resumed the washing, but she couldn't stop laughing at the images in her head of Gilligan, scared and alone, standing outside this shed. Over the next couple of hours, while talking and laughing, MaryAnn had finished washing the clothes and hung them to dry. Gilligan had succeeded in making four decent paddles and was feeling quite proud of himself.

"I guess we should head back to the clearing and see if the others have finished building the table," Gilligan suggested.

"I suppose so," she agreed. "We're done here." With that, she picked up her empty basket. "Here, why don't you put all that stuff in here to carry back."

"Okay, thanks. And MaryAnn, thanks for letting me hang out with you while we worked. That was fun," he said shyly. He seemed to want to say something else, but was hesitating.

"What is it, Gilligan?" she asked.

"Ummmm, close your eyes," he said. Curious, she did. Gilligan was standing about a foot away from her. He cautiously leaned over, watching her closely to see if she peeked. Slowly, shyly, he touched his cheek to hers, making sure she could feel his whiskered face. Then, a second later, he was gone.

MaryAnn laughed and opened her eyes just in time to see a red blur racing through the jungle at top speed, one hand clutched up to his head to hold his hat on.


	4. Shenanigans

The rest of the day had been spent building the ping pong table. Everyone lent a hand and, by the end of the evening, the castaways had themselves a ping pong table fit for a Kupa Kai king.

Occasionally, throughout the endeavor, Gilligan would catch MaryAnn watching him with a shy smile. He would blush furiously and try to duck out of her sight, which usually resulted in the destruction of whatever part of the table he had been working on.

Now it was 1:30 in the morning. Gilligan lay in his hammock, drumming his fingers and staring at the ceiling, and he had yet to sleep. He shifted . . . he tossed . . . he turned . . . he flipped over onto his stomach . . . he flipped over onto his back. He sighed.

He was hot. He threw his blanket off. He hung his hat on a nail over his hammock. He rolled one sock off and threw it across the hut. As he rolled the second sock off, he leaned over too much and fell out of his hammock, landing squarely on Skipper.

"Ooof. Gilligan, you knucklehead," Skipper growled. "That's the third time you've woken me up, tonight. What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Skipper," Gilligan sighed. "I can't seem to get comfortable, and I've got a lot on my mind."

"Okay, Little Buddy, do you want to talk about it?" Skipper asked gently.

There was a long pause. "Talk about what?" Gilligan asked innocently.

Skipper sighed. "Go to sleep, Gilligan."

Gilligan tossed and turned a few more times before giving up. He sighed heavily again, grabbed his pillow and blanket and headed out to the clearing. He wrapped his blanket around himself, tossed his pillow onto the lounge chair and threw himself down onto it. He curled up in a ball and tilted his head so that he was looking up at the sky. The stars were bright, and there was a crescent moon. It looked to Gilligan like the sky was winking at him. He grinned and winked back.

His mind kept drifting back to the stream, standing by MaryAnn and leaning over to put his cheek against hers. Every time he pictured it, he got a funny tickle in his stomach.

He was so desperate for sleep that he remembered a technique that his mother had taught him many years ago. To relax his mind, he pictured himself lying in a meadow on a warm, summer day. With his eyes closed, he focused on the feel of a warm breeze and the sun on his skin. While breathing in slow and deep, he imagined the smell of wildflowers on the wind. Without even realizing it, Gilligan finally drifted off to sleep.

While he slept, his mind continued to replay the cheek-to-cheek with MaryAnn.

_In his dream, he didn't run away. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her. When he stepped back, he watched as she morphed into a doe and cantered into the jungle, looking back at him, as if beckoning him to follow her. He followed her down the trail as if it was the most natural thing in the world, but then he lost sight of her. _

_As he pushed on down the trail, looking for the MaryAnn-Doe, he saw Donny standing there eating an ice cream cone and pointing towards the left where the trail broke off. "Thanks, Donny," he said, as he ruffled the boy's hair. _

_A little further along, he came to another fork in the trail. In the "v" of the fork, there was a bench and Margaret was sitting there, sorting bottles. She held one up and shook it with a smile . . . and Gilligan could see that it was filled with gems. She pointed to the right. He smiled and hugged her. "It's good to see you, Margaret. I've got some more bottles for you," he said, as he continued down the trail. _

_Soon he came to a river. As he looked up and down the bank, a pebble skittered across the dirt and hit his toe. He looked up and Scotty was sitting in a tree on the other side of the water. He pointed towards the left. "What are you doing up there, Scotty?" Scotty didn't answer, he just produced a chicken-filled plate lunch and started to eat, all the while, watching Gilligan._

_He thought she may have gone through some flowering bushes, so he pushed his way through . . . and found himself standing on the edge of a beautiful garden, filled with flowers and butterflies. In the center of the garden, there was a picnic table loaded with food and seated at the table, holding a plate of pancakes, was MaryAnn. He came over and sat next to her. She put the pancakes down in front of him and reached her hand up to push the bangs out of his eyes. Then she reached up and kissed him on the temple._

The smell of pancakes woke Gilligan. He grunted and stretched and rubbed his eyes. Then he sat up slowly and opened his eyes. MaryAnn was setting the table, and there was a huge platter of pancakes in the center.

The other castaways hadn't shown up for breakfast yet. Gilligan stumbled over to the table, trying to stretch his back and rub his eyes at the same time. MaryAnn chuckled, while watching him. "Good morning, Sleepyhead. What possessed you to sleep out here?"

"I couldn't sleep in my hammock, last night. I guess I just needed to see the stars," he answered.

MaryAnn smiled at him as he sat down, and she reached over and tussled his hair. He realized, with wide eyes, that he didn't have his hat on, that it was still hanging on the nail above his hammock. He suddenly felt exposed.

He got up and strolled (casually, he hoped) into his hut to retrieve his hat. By the time he got back, the others had started to gather for their morning meal. There was a chorus of "Good Mornings", and everyone sat down and started passing around pancakes, syrup and mango juice.

Gilligan filled his plate and dug in. He thought that these were probably the best pancakes that MaryAnn had ever made. He shoved in a big mouthful just as Skipper was asking him what his plans were for the day.

"Ah wfz hmpnk tfo hmv a trnmfment," he mumbled with his mouth full. Then as he swallowed, he continued. "With the ping pong table finished, can't we just have a play-day and have a big tournament?"

"That depends, Gilligan," Ginger purred. "What would the winner get?" she asked with a wink.

He ignored the fact that she was trying to vamp him, and tapped his finger on his chin as he thought it over. Finally, he grinned and said, "I've got the perfect prize for the winner."

"What could it possibly be?" Skipper asked sarcastically. "A lifetime supply of coconuts?" which drew a laugh from the group of friends.

"Even better," answered Gilligan, smugly. "How 'bout an evening with a guest of their choice in a private hot tub."

The crowd exploded. "Hot Tub?" "Where is there a hot tub?" "What?" "What else have you been keeping from us?" Gilligan almost fell off his seat.

"Gee," he said innocently. "Didn't I tell you about it yesterday? I found it on my way back with the bamboo, yesterday morning. It's by the ridge on the side of the volcano."

"No, Gilligan!" Skipper bellowed. "You DIDN'T tell us about it."

"Gilligan," Professor said gently. "Where exactly is this 'hot tub'? Tell me more about it."

"Well," he answered. "I was coming back, dragging the load of bamboo, and I was trying to find a short-cut. So I followed Dutch as he headed down a real narrow trail, and it cut through a little clearing. There's all kinds of flowers and pretty plants around it, and in the middle is a pool of water just sitting there. I was gonna go get a drink, but when I started to scoop my hand in, it was kind of hot – not hot enough to burn you, but pretty hot. Just like taking a hot bath."

Skipper looked at the Professor with concern. "What do you think?"

The Professor spent a few minutes in deep thought, while the rest of the castaways watched him and waited for an answer. Gilligan continued to shove in his pancakes. He finally answered, "Well, as that area is so close to the volcano, my best guess would be that there is a lava stream beneath the rocks; that heats the rocks up, which in turn, heats the water."

"Gilligan," he continued, "While the others clean up after breakfast and set up a tournament schedule, let's you and I go take a look at that hot tub, shall we?"

"Sure, Professor," he said with a huge grin. With that, he scooped up the last pancake on his plate and ate it in one giant bite. After washing it down with a gulp of juice, he leaned towards MaryAnn and whispered, with a shy smile, "Thanks, MaryAnn, those were the best pancakes ever!"

After they all finished eating, Skipper and the Howell's set off to draw up a tournament chart and schedule who would start off the competition. Ginger and MaryAnn cleaned up the dishes, then dug out the chalkboard from the supply hut to keep score on. There was a sense of excitement in the air.

Gilligan and the Professor set off toward the hot tub. When they got there, Professor tested the temperature. He hunted around to see if he could see the source of water. Meanwhile, Gilligan sat on a rock at the edge of the clearing and watched, asking questions, three at a time. A small monkey swung down from a branch and landed in his lap. "Hey Dutch," he said with a grin, and he gave the monkey a scratch behind his ears.

Professor looked up and grinned at Gilligan and the monkey. He was always amazed at Gilligan's ability to charm all the creatures they had found on the island.

"Well, Gilligan," he said as he finished his examination. "As far as I can tell, it's safe enough. I'm going to second your proposal to have a private hot tub for two be the grand prize for the tournament winner."

"Yay," Gilligan shouted as he clapped, scaring Dutch off his lap and back up into the trees. The two men laughed and, as Professor patted Gilligan on the back, they headed back to tell the others the great news.

By the time they got back, the chart was made, and everyone was ready to begin. They put everyone's name on a piece of paper and into a bowl. They picked the opponents by pulling names.

The first up was MaryAnn against Mr. Howell. The farm girl had played a lot against her cousins and the other kids in Winfield, Kansas. There had been a table in the hall where her youth group had gathered. And while Mr. Howell had been known in his Men's Club as a strong competitor, he couldn't match the speed and finesse that MaryAnn brought to the game.

Next up, were Skipper and Professor. Skipper had played a great deal in the Navy, and Professor had played an equal amount in high school and college – ping pong had been one of the few indulgences that he had allowed to take him away from his studies. The match was exciting and fast-paced, with Professor taking the win.

The castaways took a break from their games to have a lunch of bananas, breadfruit, and a delightful poi biscuit that MaryAnn had recently perfected. Gilligan was entertaining the group with a play-by-play description of the first two matches, drawing big laughs with his impersonations – first of Mr. Howell, the wolf of Wall Street, losing to a tiny, little girl from Kansas (his cry for Teddy nearly made Mrs. Howell snort coconut milk out her nose) – and then he caused Ginger to fall off her chair as he gave his best impersonation of Skipper lunging and sending his return through the wall of his own hut.

When they had eaten their fill and couldn't take any more of Gilligan's antics, they prepared for the next match – Ginger against Mrs. Howell. They knew that Mrs. Howell had held a title at her Girls' School in Greenwich, Connecticut, but they didn't know that Ginger was an accomplished player in her own right. This match-up was every bit as exciting as Skipper's and Professor's had been. They tied back and forth, until as they were both tiring, Mrs. Howell finally put a spin on a seed pod like none of them had ever seen before. There were cheers and groans as Eunice "Lovey" Howell finished off the glamorous Ginger Grant with a graceful finesse.

As Gilligan had not played yet, he was scheduled to play against the winner of the first match – that being MaryAnn. He and Skinny Mulligan had spent a lot of Wednesday afternoons at the Boys' Club in town, perfecting ping pong techniques and tricks. He was confident in his ability to win . . . until he picked up the paddle and looked at those big, brown eyes staring back at him from across the table. All he could picture was a beautiful doe looking back at him over her shoulder. He shook his head and tried to dislodge that image . . . and was rewarded with an image of himself, by the stream, leaning down to put his cheek on hers. He jumped up and down and waved his arms back and forth to loosen up. He looked back at her and got into position. He scowled and tried to look intimidating. As MaryAnn picked up her paddle to serve, she smiled. He missed the seed pod by about two feet.

She served again, and he saw her standing there holding a platter of pancakes. His return went wide and just missed Mr. Howell's head. "Egads, the lad's going headhunter on me," he shouted.

The rest of the match followed the same pattern, with wild hits, spectacular misses, and a huge bump on Skipper's left knee. When MaryAnn finally took the win and put the other castaways out of their misery, everyone breathed a sigh of relief – Gilligan, most of all.

The next match of Round 2 was Mrs. Howell and Professor. With both players being so well-matched, the games were fast and furious. The bantering and cheering going on was deafening. When Mrs. Howell won, she laid down her paddle, wrinkled her nose at Professor and leaned over to let her husband kiss her on the cheek in congratulations. Professor threw his hands up and groaned, and Ginger sauntered over to take his mind off of losing.

They were down to the two finalists – MaryAnn and Mrs. Howell. The spectators quickly chose their sides. Gilligan kept trying to give MaryAnn pointers until Skipper hit him with his hat and grabbed his elbow to pull him away from the table.

MaryAnn served and thus started the longest, most intense match of the day. Mrs. Howell impressed them all, making it all look so easy. MaryAnn was intense and focused, determined to take the Socialite down.

On the sidelines, the antics were just as spectacular. Gilligan spied Mr. Howell attempting to toss a spare seed pod onto the table to confuse MaryAnn. The outraged sailor dove over Ginger to get to Mr. Howell, sending her flailing backwards off her chair. Skipper tried to catch Gilligan mid-air and ended up elbowing Professor in the nose. Mr. Howell jumped off his chair to avoid the flying red shirt coming at him and threw out his back. In the end, the spectators had more injuries than any backyard football game.

With all the shouting, scuffling and bleeding going on, they almost missed the final play of the game when Mrs. Howell sent a return to the left corner of the table, just out of the reach of tiny farm-girl. As MaryAnn realized that she had just lost the match, she looked over to the cheering section with an apologetic frown and burst out laughing at the continuing chaos on the sidelines. Skipper was holding Gilligan's waist as he was still reaching towards Mr. Howell, who was bent over at an awkward angle; Ginger was behind them rubbing her sore buttocks; and Professor was pinching his nose in an attempt to stop the gushing delivered with Skipper's elbow.

The two finalists met at the side of the table and shook hands and hugged, both still chuckling. Mrs. Howell comforted her aching husband. "There, there, Thurston. That will feel ever so much better after an hour or two in the hot tub."

Skipper threw the squirming Gilligan down onto the bench and held him there. "Settle down, Gilligan," he bellowed.

"But, but . . . " Gilligan sputtered. MaryAnn came over to him and put her hand on his arm.

"Thank you for trying to defend me, Gilligan," she said with a shy smile. She was a little disappointed that she lost the honor of being the first in the hot tub, as she had been planning on inviting Gilligan. Maybe, she thought, he'll still want to take a stroll with me.

Ginger sauntered over the Professor to help him with his injury, and Skipper started to pick up overturned tables and chairs.

The castaways each turned to go their own ways, and things started to return to normal. Gilligan followed MaryAnn as she headed back to her hut to fix her loosened pigtails. He called out as she went through her door. "Hey, MaryAnn."

She turned back towards him, and he saw the disappointment in her eyes, though she was trying to smile. "What is it, Gilligan?" she asked.

"Well," he was suddenly shy again. "Umm, well, I'm sorry you didn't win. I was really cheering for you. I know you and Ginger really would have enjoyed being the first to get to use the hot tub."

She grinned. "What makes you think I would have taken Ginger?"

"Oh. Ummm, well, I thought . . . you know . . . you two always like to sunbathe together and go to the mud pit together. I just figured . . . " he turned red and mumbled. "Wait a minute." He said with indignation. "If it wasn't Ginger, who WERE you going to invite?"

MaryAnn giggled. "You, Silly," she answered as she poked his nose. "Would you like to take a walk with me, anyway?" she asked.

Later that evening, Thurston and Lovey Howell strolled slowly back towards their hut to retire, after a lovely evening spent in the most romantic atmosphere they had experienced since the shipwreck. They were smiling and happy and thoroughly preoccupied re-discovering their love for each other.

Meanwhile, coming from a different direction, another couple was heading towards the clearing, smiling and happy and . . . not quite ready to admit the feelings that were blossoming between them. "Thank you for taking a walk with me, Gilligan." MaryAnn said shyly.

"Thank you for letting me take a walk with you," Gilligan answered shyly. He still wasn't used to having such a pretty girl being so nice to him. After the experiences he had suffered with the fair sex, he had come to expect disappointment. Although, as they strolled through the jungle smelling the aromas of the fauna, he remembered his friend, Margaret's promise – that someday he would meet a wonderful girl who would see him for the gem that he was. Then he remembered a few nights previously, when MaryAnn hugged him and told him that he was a gem. And then . . . he recalled his dream from last night when all his friends were pointing him in the direction of MaryAnn.

"Penny for your thoughts," she offered, noticing how quiet he had gotten all of a sudden.

"Oh, umm, uh, well . . . I, uh," he blushed and stuttered and stammered for a minute, before stopping and turning to face her. "I was just thinking . . . can you make pancakes again tomorrow for breakfast?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, Gilligan," she laughed and sighed. And as they continued walking towards their huts, she linked her arm in his and put her head on his shoulder. "Of course, I can, if that's what you want."


	5. Double Dutch

The sunlight burst through MaryAnn's window with a vengeance. She scrunched up her face and stretched. It was later than she usually slept.

It had taken her forever to fall asleep after Gilligan had dropped her off at her door, last night. All during their stroll, he had been his usual, talkative self . . . sweet, funny . . . and shy. They had talked about how much fun the ping pong tournament was and told each other stories about how they each learned to play. When they reached her hut, he hung back a little with his head down and scuffing his toe in the sand.

"Well, I'll see you in the morning, MaryAnn," he said shyly. "Thanks for taking a walk with me."

"I'm sorry I didn't win the tournament," she said with a grin. "That hot tub would have been nice tonight."

"Yeah, but it'll be nice tomorrow, too," he offered.

MaryAnn chuckled. "I'm sure it will. I'm sure everybody will be in it, too."

"Yeah, I guess." He looked around, as if expecting any of the others to be sitting around watching them. Not seeing anyone, he turned back to MaryAnn. He took a nervous step forward. Then he gulped. He was looking right into her eyes, trying to read her. She was trying to make her eyes say "Kiss me".

He backed up a couple of steps and looked around again. He thought about how brave he had been the other day, putting his cheek on hers. He remembered hearing her gasp, and then laugh as he raced through the jungle – not a mean laugh, though. It had been a happy laugh. He wished he was feeling as brave, tonight. He scuffed his toe, again. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, good night, MaryAnn. I'll see you tomorrow. Skipper will probably keep me busy all day, though, to make up for not working today."

And with that, he turned and hurried off to his hut. MaryAnn leaned against her door-frame and sighed, as she watched him walk away. When she finally stepped into the hut, Ginger was laying in her bed, up on her elbow. "No kiss, huh?" she said with sincere sympathy.

MaryAnn threw herself down on her cot. "Not yet," she grinned. "But I'm not giving up hope. I know he likes me, he's just so darned shy." With that, she got up to change into her nightshirt.

"I think it's more than that, MaryAnn," Ginger theorized. "I know I scare him when I try to flirt with him. I'm trying to loosen him up – get him used to flirting, but I don't think it's working. I'm betting he really got his heart broken some time in his past. It's not just being shy - he's really afraid to let you know how much he likes you."

MaryAnn pondered this as she crawled under her blanket. She bunched up her pillow and hugged it. "I think you're right, Ginger. I just need to find a way to let him know how special I think he is . . . without scaring him off." With her brows furrowed, she tried to find a solution. Eventually, sleep took over.

When MaryAnn got up the next morning, there was already a pile of firewood near her oven, and the water barrel was full. _Somebody was up early_, she thought with a smile.

"Hi!" Gilligan strolled up quietly behind her and greeted her enthusiastically. She jumped out of her skin.

She sighed, but with a smile. "Hi, Gilligan. You've been busy this morning."

"Yeah, like I said last night – Skipper's gonna keep me pretty busy today." He shrugged. "I'm going to go fishing on the west beach after breakfast. I can usually get some big fish over there, and Skipper and Professor want to do some smoking. Do you have any chores to do?"

"I do have some mending I can do. If you want company, I can put a sewing kit together and come with you." She suggested.

"Sure," he said with a big grin. "I bet you can meet Dutch. He usually hangs out over there in the mornings."

With that, MaryAnn got busy preparing a quick breakfast for the rest of the castaways to eat. Afterwards, while Gilligan gathered his fishing equipment, she put a pile of mending and her sewing kit into a basket to take with her.

As they headed through the jungle, Gilligan grew thoughtful. He was, once again, thinking about what would happen if he was really brave enough to kiss MaryAnn. She's really nice to him, and she seems to like hanging out with him . . . but then his mind always goes back to that disastrous night in Waikiki. The night when he was out with Dutch and he had bumped into that girl who then threw her beer at him. Sure, she was drunk. Sure, she was mean to him, anyway – what did he care what she said. Why should he care that some drunk girl told him that if a girl could have any guy she wanted, she would never want him. Although, even though Dutch had wanted to ask her out, after she was so mean to Gilligan, he told her off and left with his friend.

MaryAnn noticed Gilligan's scowl while he was walking. She wanted to strike up a conversation and, hopefully, distract him from whatever was bothering him. "So Gilligan," she asked "How did you meet Dutch, anyway? And where did you get that name?" She had learned that all the animal names Gilligan came up with usually came from colorful stories.

"Well," he started, suddenly enthusiastic, "A couple of weeks ago, I was picking bananas, and I heard a funny cry. Something sounded like it was in trouble. So I followed the sound, and it led me to the cliff over on the south side. I looked over one of the edges, and this poor little guy was on a ledge about 4 feet down. There was a tree with a branch hanging over quite a ways. I figure he fell off the branch. He was real lucky to land on the ledge, though."

MaryAnn gasped. "Oh, that poor little thing. He must have been terrified," she said with the same wide eyes that gave Gilligan flutters in his stomach.

"Yeah," he continued. "So I got some thick vines and lowered them down, hoping he'd be able to crawl up them. Luckily, that worked. When he got up to the top, he crawled up into my lap and just sat there, shivering. I figure he must have been real scared. So I reached into my bag and got a banana. Suddenly, he wasn't so scared – just hungry."

"So, how'd you name him 'Dutch'?" she asked.

"Oh, that's an easy one," he grinned. "See, when I was on the carrier with Skipper, this one day, I was going out on the deck after finishing up my shift, and I went over to the starboard rail to look out over the edge, and I got quite a surprise. This guy, Dutch, was down on this little ledge. He had been sitting down there having a smoke, and the rope ladder that he used had come loose, stranding him down there."

"Oh no," MaryAnn exclaimed. "He must have been happy to see you come along."

"Well, yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I went and found another rope ladder to lower down to him. And when he came up, he punched me on the arm, and said 'thanks, kid'. I had brought some fruit out with me for a snack, and I gave him some. He was from Texas, and we talked for an hour about him being a cowboy on a ranch back home. Being in the Navy sure was different for him."

"Let me guess," said MaryAnn. "He had a black crew-cut"

"Hahaha, yup," Gilligan laughed. "My little Dutch looks just like him – right down to the scowl."

When they broke through the jungle, near Gilligan's favorite fishing spot, MaryAnn laid out a blanket and set up her pile of work. Gilligan got busy putting some lines in the water. They weren't there ten minutes before MaryAnn heard an excited chattering coming up behind her. A little brown monkey with a black crew-cut jumped out onto her blanket, scolding her.

She laughed, delightedly. "Oh goodness. You must be Dutch. What kind of monkey is he, Gilligan?"

"I think Professor called him a Blockhead Capuchino." He said with confidence. MaryAnn hid her smile behind her sewing.

"Are you sure that's what he said?"

"Well, something like that," he grinned. Then he turned quickly as he heard one of his lines start humming. "WooHoo!" he shouted. "I got something big on the end of this line." While Gilligan battled with the fish, MaryAnn settled down to get her mending done. She positioned herself so that she could watch him. He was wearing swim trunks, his t-shirt and, of course, his hat; and standing there, trying for all he was worth to reel that fish in, MaryAnn thought he was the most adorable thing she had ever seen.

As the morning wore on, the three friends were having a wonderful time on the beach. Between catching fish, mending, laughing at Dutch's antics, and just hanging out, Gilligan and MaryAnn forgot to be shy. Gilligan had thrown himself down on the blanket next to MaryAnn and both were laughing hysterically at Dutch's attempt put a sock on his head. MaryAnn was so very happy that before she even realized what she was doing, she leaned over to kiss Gilligan on the cheek. At that very moment, Gilligan turned towards her to ask her a question that flew out of his head in a split-second as, suddenly, MaryAnn's lips were on his.

He quickly jumped up in a panic. "I'm sorry. Gosh, MaryAnn. I didn't mean to make my lips touch yours." He looked at her, expecting her to be angry. But she wasn't. She had her hands over her mouth as if trying to stifle her giggles.

"Oh goodness, Gilligan. I'm the sorry one. That must have startled you." And with that, her giggles broke through. He looked around, and once he realized that the only one to witness that was Dutch, he started to settle down. Cautiously, watching her with a wary eye, he sat back down next to her. Dutch was watching him with something like a grin on his face.

"Come on, mighty sailor-man," she said. "Let's pick up and head back to the clearing. You've got some fish to clean." And she started to put her sewing back into the basket. She watched him, carefully. She could tell he was still a little nervous, and she hoped that being busy would calm him down.

Gilligan got his gear together and tried to avoid looking over at MaryAnn. He loaded his catches and gear into the wheel barrow and then took MaryAnn's basket and balanced it between the handles. Before he took the handles to head back, though, he glanced at her. She smiled to try and put him at ease.

He scuffed his toe in the sand and didn't seem to know where to put his hands. He paced back and forth, as he seemed to be working things out. He finally stopped right in front of her and looked at her. Quickly, before he could talk himself out of it, he put his hands on her shoulders and gave her the fastest kiss in the history of kisses. Then, without a word, he turned, grabbed the handles of the wheel barrow and set off at a fast pace through the jungle.

Behind him, MaryAnn did a little "happy" dance. Then she shook out the blanket, folded it over her arm, took Dutch's hand and followed Gilligan into the jungle.


	6. Dinner and a Hot Tub

When Gilligan got back to the clearing, Skipper, Professor and Ginger were just coming in from another trail. After prepping the cave to smoke the fish, Skipper and Professor had gone back to their huts to get swimsuits and then headed to the hot tub for a brief soak. Ginger had overheard them and decided to tag along. Now, they were coming back to the clearing for dinner.

"Wow, Little Buddy," Skipper shouted happily. "That's a great catch. You made out pretty good down at the beach, huh?"

Gilligan's eyes got wide, and he turned pale. He started to stammer. "What's that supposed to mean?" he squeaked.

"I just meant that you caught a lot of nice fish. What do you think I meant?" Skipper answered, confused.

Just then, MaryAnn came strolling in, carrying her blanket and still holding Dutch's hand. "Hi, everyone," she called, cheerfully. "Don't worry. I'll have dinner on the table in a jiffy."

Gilligan glanced at MaryAnn, then back at the others, blushing furiously. Three little lightbulbs went on over Skipper's, Professor's and Ginger's heads. They looked at Gilligan, standing there, tense and wide-eyed, and they looked back at MaryAnn, who was standing there, smiling innocently.

"Gilligan," MaryAnn said, "When you clean the fish, could you please do it on the table in the supply hut? I'm going to need the outside table to prepare dinner." Whatever she walked in on, she could tell that it was making the first-mate nervous, and she was hoping to diffuse the situation.

"Sure, MaryAnn," he answered. He gave her just a hint of a shy smile as he handed her the sewing basket. Then he started unloading the wheelbarrow and carrying the fish into the hut to be cleaned.

With his last load, Skipper followed him in. "Want some help, Little Buddy?" he asked.

"Sure, Skipper, thanks," Gilligan answered with a smile. They worked together cleaning the fish and cutting it into strips to smoke. As they cut, they laid the strips into the wheelbarrow to take to the cave for smoking. As they worked, Skipper tried to find the best way to ask what he wanted to ask. As they worked, Gilligan hoped with all his might that Skipper wouldn't ask the question that he knew was coming.

"So, Little Buddy," Skipper started. Gilligan winced. Here it comes. "You seemed a little tense when we got to the clearing. Everything okay? You want to talk about anything?" They were just about done with the pile of fish and were putting the last few pieces on the wheelbarrow.

"Nope. Everything's fine," he answered, keeping his head down, as he started to clean up the table.

"Er, uh, MaryAnn was hanging out with you down at the beach, today, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she was mending and stuff." He winced again. And stuff . . . why did he say that. Skipper was sure to pick up on it.

Just at that moment, MaryAnn stuck her head in the door. "Hey, you two, clean up. Dinner's ready."

They came out of the hut and walked over to the water barrel to wash up. Skipper kept glancing at Gilligan, who was doing his best to maintain his composure. He even managed to look at Skipper and smile. _That's it_, he told himself_. Play it cool._ He walked back towards the table, put his hands in his pockets – _that's right, nice and calm_ – then he tripped over his own feet - crashed into Mr. Howell - who fell over the bench - which hit Ginger's shins - knocking her off balance and into the Professor – who fell over the table - which sent the platter of fruit that MaryAnn had just placed scattering across the clearing.

Mrs. Howell, having just sat down, looked through her lorgnette at the mess. "Oh Dear," she said. And she and MaryAnn started to gather the scattered fruit. Most of the food on the table was still edible, so the castaways picked themselves up and sat down to eat – with more than one of them glaring at Gilligan. Mr. Howell was rubbing his lower back; Ginger was rubbing her shin and Professor was rubbing his elbow.

"Wow, this looks great, MaryAnn," said Gilligan, happily oblivious to the glares. "Except, I think this mango has a bite already taken out of it," he said, looking at a mango suspiciously.

MaryAnn giggled. "I think Dutch might have gotten that one," she said. At that moment, Dutch, who had been hanging back out of sight, heard his name and jumped up onto Gilligan's lap with a grin.

"Hello again, Dutch," said Professor with a smile.

"Oh brother," grumbled Skipper. "Another monkey. Gilligan, will you please keep your animals away from the dinner table."

"Oh, can't he stay?" asked Ginger. "He's a cute one," she said as she held out her finger, which Dutch took hold of. "What kind of monkey is he, Professor?"

"Why, I believe that's a black-capped capuchin," Professor answered.

MaryAnn had been in the middle of a drink out of her coconut cup. At Professor's answer, she snorted a laugh and choked on her water. She put her napkin up to wipe her mouth, still coughing and laughing. Then she looked at Gilligan and raised her eyebrow.

He tried to scowl at her, but couldn't do it. He started laughing, too, until the two of them were giggling uncontrollably. "I was close," he said, still laughing. "It started with a "b" and had a "cuh, a puh and a chuh" in it."

With that answer, MaryAnn started laughing all over again. Their laughter was so contagious that the other castaways couldn't help but join in, although they weren't quite sure what started it.

As dinner was wrapping up, Professor looked at Skipper and Gilligan and asked, "Gentlemen, can I get a volunteer to help with the fish? I'd like to get the smoking procedure started tonight."

"Sure, Professor," answered Gilligan. "I'd like to learn how to do it."

Skipper was happy with that, too, as he was not looking forward to the hike back to the cave.

"I'll go get the fish and meet you back here, Gilligan," said Professor. And he got up from the table and headed into the supply hut.

The Howells headed off for an evening stroll around their usual trail. Ginger was flirting with Skipper and promising to teach him a card trick that she had learned from a magician when she was in college. And MaryAnn was picking up the dishes and heading off to the water barrel to clean them and put them away.

Gilligan sat at the table, watching as the others left the table in one's and two's. Lastly, his eyes landed on MaryAnn, as she walked away carrying a pile of dishes. He grabbed what was left on the table and followed her. "Hey, MaryAnn," he asked, nervously. "What're you doing tonight, you know, after the dishes?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll see if Ginger and Skipper want a 3-man cribbage game or something."

"Well," Gilligan continued. "I was kind of thinking . . . " he stopped talking and kind of looked off into the distance.

"Yes," she asked. "Thinking what?"

He sighed. "You know when I kissed you today? First, it was an accident, remember . . . on the blanket. Then after . . ." He seemed to be having a hard time finding the words he wanted to say.

"If it makes you feel any better about it," MaryAnn said, shyly, "I was happy that you kissed me. I know you were surprised by that first kiss . . . but then, I thought you were really brave to kiss me again."

He blushed and smiled and scuffed his toe in the sand. "Maybe later, you can walk down to the hot tub and meet me there. Do you know how to find it?"

"I'll ask Ginger how to get there, and I'll bring a torch. Maybe Dutch will stay with me, too. He knows where it is, right"

Gilligan laughed nervously. "Yeah, he's been there before. I'll see you later, then." And in a flash, he was gone.

As Gilligan and Professor trudged through the jungle, Professor was in full teacher-mode, explaining to Gilligan the whole process of smoking fish, where it started, how long it takes, what are the best woods to use. Gilligan was happy for the distraction. It was keeping his mind off the fact that in a few hours, he would be taking a moonlight swim with MaryAnn. He asked questions and made suggestions, and actually impressed Professor with a couple of his ideas.

They got to the cave and set to work right away. By the time they were done, they were hot and smelled like fish and smoke. Professor, knowing that Gilligan would be meeting MaryAnn later, suggested that they take a side trip to the waterfall and rinse off properly.

Around an hour and a half later, Gilligan walked slowly towards the hot tub. This was seeming an awful lot like a date, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked MaryAnn, but he wasn't sure about having a girlfriend. She sure was pretty, though.

As he got closer to the hot tub, he could see light through the trees up ahead. MaryAnn had set up three torches around the edges of the water, and the effect was stunning. He stopped while he was still standing in the dark of the jungle. MaryAnn was already in the water, and Dutch was sitting on a nearby rock, scolding her. The torches were flickering, and MaryAnn was laughing. Gilligan, suddenly feeling very nervous, stepped out into the clearing.

"Hey, MaryAnn," he called.

"Oh Gilligan, here you are. I was starting to think you weren't going to make it," she answered. "Ooooh, come in – the water feels amazing."

He was standing just outside the ring of light, not quite sure what to do. He peeled off his t-shirt and approached the water. As he passed the big rock, Dutch threw himself at Gilligan, happy to see his big friend. Gilligan laughed and held the monkey up to the branch of a big banyan tree overhanging the water. Dutch took the hint and climbed into the tree.

At least the monkey succeeded in calming Gilligan's nerves, just a little. He stepped down into the water opposite MaryAnn, and seemed content to stay on the far side of the hot tub.

"So," said MaryAnn, suddenly nervous, herself. "I guess you and Professor got the fish smoking properly."

"Um, yeah. It was pretty neat. It was kind of easy, too, since he and Skipper got everything ready earlier today."

Then silence descended again, and they both looked around and avoided looking at each other. Gilligan had found a rock to sit on and lowered himself down past his shoulders. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. With his eyes closed, MaryAnn took the opportunity to watch him. She could almost see the tension drain from his shoulders as he relaxed. The water was steaming lightly and the torches were flickering in the breeze. "Umm, Gilligan?" she said. "Gilligan . . . " Then there was no ignoring the sound of his snore, as she realized that he had fallen into a deep sleep.

She sighed. Then she laughed. It was so typically Gilligan. She let him sleep for a half hour, and to be truthful, she came close to falling asleep herself. But eventually, she realized that it was getting late and they needed to head back to camp. So she swam over to him and put her hand on his shoulder to wake him up.

"Gilligan," she said softly. "Honey, you need to wake up. We should go back now."

Gilligan's head rolled to the side, and his cheek was resting on her hand. Then slowly, his eyes opened, and he looked over at her. Her face was right there, and her hand was still on his shoulder. They were looking right into each other's eyes, neither one of them wanting to move. Then he scooted a little closer to her as she wound her arm around his neck. He closed his eyes and leaned towards her.

At that moment, there was a loud ruckus in the branches above their heads, and Dutch came tumbling down and splashed into the water.

MaryAnn gasped. Gilligan dove for the monkey, just as Dutch swam up to the surface. As Gilligan carried Dutch over to the side and wrapped him in a towel, Dutch was chattering furiously.

"He's okay," said Gilligan. "Just scared, I think."

MaryAnn came up beside him. "Let's get him back to camp. We can sit by the campfire with him and warm him up."

Gilligan put out two of the torches and took the third, while MaryAnn held Dutch in her arms. They walked through the dark jungle, side by side. They walked in a comfortable silence. When they came to a log laying across the trail, Gilligan crossed it first and held his hand out for MaryAnn to hold onto as she stepped over. When she stepped down, she said "Thank you, Gilligan."

He smiled, then he frowned. "I'm sorry I fell asleep in the hot tub, MaryAnn. I wasn't very good company."

"I'm not sorry," she grinned. "You're kind of cute when you sleep."

He grinned back and blushed. They continued walking back to the camp, still side by side, but just a little bit closer.

When they got to the camp, the others were all still awake and sitting quietly around the campfire. They jumped up in worry when they saw Dutch wrapped in the towel.

"He's okay," said Gilligan. "He just fell in the water and wasn't too happy about it."

"I think," MaryAnn added, "that he just needed a little cuddling." Then she looked at Gilligan and winked.

Gilligan, MaryAnn and Dutch joined the others around the campfire. After an hour, the conversation died down, and they all started drifting off towards their beds. Gilligan wanted to walk MaryAnn to her hut, but Ginger was already walking with her. He frowned a bit, but Skipper came up behind him and gave him a friendly clap on the back. "Come on, Little Buddy," he said. "Help me put this fire out."

The two sailors, being the last ones up, poured some water on the embers and made sure that none remained lit. Then they walked towards the bachelor hut, Gilligan carrying Dutch and Skipper's arm over Gilligan's shoulders. As they approached the door, Gilligan took one last glance at MaryAnn's hut and saw her in the window waving goodnight to him. He smiled and gave her a little wave back. Then he walked through the door, squared his shoulders and prepared himself for the upcoming interrogation.


	7. Crazy Eights

When Gilligan entered the hut, Skipper sat at the table. "I was thinking of playing some cards for a bit, Little Buddy. Do you want to play some Crazy Eights, or shall I set up solitaire," he said, as he shuffled.

"Crazy Eights," Gilligan offered, with a grin. He knew he wouldn't be getting to sleep any time soon. Skipper wasn't going to bed until he had some good information. Skipper started dealing, then he put on his poker face.

He flipped over a Jack of Spades, laid down the draw pile and picked up his cards.

Gilligan looked at his hand and laid down a Jack of Hearts. "Hmmmm, hearts, huh," said Skipper. "Hearts are a funny thing."

Gilligan glanced up at him, but didn't reply. Skipper put down a 2 of Hearts. "And when you get two hearts together, that's when things can really get complicated."

Gilligan laid down an 8 of Hearts. He said, "Yeah, well I'm done with Hearts. Here's an 8. Let's see – I'm going with Clubs."

Skipper laid down a King of Clubs, and Gilligan followed with a 9. Then Skipper switched back with a 9 of Hearts. "Oh look at that," he chuckled. "We're back at hearts again."

"Skipper," Gilligan asked, laughing "Did you stack this deck?"

Skipper sputtered and put on an affronted face. "Of course not, Little Buddy. Why would you think I did that?"

"Oh, I dunno . . . maybe because you're dying to know what's going on with me and MaryAnn and our '_hearts'_. Gilligan answered sagely. He grinned, and Skipper couldn't help but grin back.

"Alright, you caught me." He admitted, chuckling. "In all seriousness, though, Gilligan, _is_ there something going on with you and MaryAnn and your . . . _'hearts'_?"

Gilligan laid his cards down and put his chin in his hand. He sighed. "I'm just not sure, Skipper. I've never been very good at figuring girls out."

"What's to figure out, Little Buddy. It's pretty obvious that she likes you." That little detail was the one that had Skipper concerned.

"Well, MaryAnn's so pretty." Gilligan whispered.

"Of course, she is," Skipper answered. "She's also the sweetest, little thing I think you or I have ever met."

Gilligan looked down at the table for a minute, so Skipper couldn't read his face. When he looked back up, he was scowling.

"It's just that . . . all through school . . . it was the real pretty ones that picked on me. They laughed at me, they set me up for pranks, their boyfriends beat me up." He grew silent for a minute and sighed. "I just keep waiting for the shoe to drop, know what I mean? Maybe she's just being nice and doesn't really like me that way at all."

"Now wait just a minute, Gilligan. MaryAnn would NOT set you up. She's too nice a person for that. She doesn't play head games like some girls do." Skipper hesitated, not sure that he wanted to say what he wanted to say. "I believe she DOES like you . . . a lot. She laughs with you, not at you. And she seems to really enjoy spending time with you . . . heck, she's always trying to find an inconspicuous reason to do so."

Gilligan fiddled with the cards on the table in front of him. He shifted through the drawn pile and picked up the 2 of Hearts. "Oh, I know she'd never be mean to me . . . but . . . I'm scared, Skipper," he whispered again. "I'm scared of putting my heart out there to get stomped on. I know that she's too nice to ever try to hurt me on purpose . . . it's just that . . . I'm sure not used to pretty girls like her treating me as nice as she treats me."

He thought about it some more. "But she does laugh at my stories . . . and she likes the same science fiction movies that I do . . . and she likes rock and roll like I do . . . and she does like butterfly hunting and climbing trees and swimming and hiking with me . . . and when everybody else is sore at me for messing something up, she always tries to cheer me up." He smiled. "Maybe she really does like me."

Skipper sighed. Part of him knew that Gilligan was 23 and was bound to notice girls sooner or later, especially MaryAnn. The other part of him was hoping that his Little Buddy stayed as innocent and naïve as he was right now.

"Gilligan," he said. "I really think that she does like you. And it's pretty obvious that you like her, too. Just . . . just take things slow and easy." He hesitated. He blushed. He started to stammer a bit.

"Skipper, you're not worried about . . . about . . ." and then Gilligan blushed, too. "Skipper, I'm scared to death just to hold her hand. When I kissed her today, I did it so fast, and then I ran away faster than I've ever run before."

"Wait – you kissed _her_?" Skipper asked, a little shocked. "Really? What happened?"

"I just told you what happened. I kissed her . . . and then I ran for it." Gilligan answered. "Anyway, I'm not about to go rushing into anything you need to worry about. I'll be happy if I can get to a point where I can hold her hand without heading for the jungle."

"Well, what did she do when you kissed her?"

Gilligan sighed. "_I don't know_. I told you . . . I was running away too fast."

Skipper picked up the cards and started shuffling them – really shuffling them, this time. "New game?" he asked.

Gilligan grinned. "Sure. One round, anyway. I want to get up early tomorrow. MaryAnn and I are having a picnic in the butterfly field." Skipper's eyes grew wide, and he started to stammer again. Gilligan pulled his hat down over his face and started giggling. "I'm kidding. I'm just kidding." He pulled his hat back and flipped up the rim. "Just deal the cards, Skipper," he said, still chuckling.


	8. Sealed With a Kiss

Gilligan opened his eyes and looked around his hut. He thought he had heard something. Skipper was snoring softly below him. He carefully got out of his hammock and went to his window to look out. In the moonlight, he could see MaryAnn sitting at the table holding Dutch and whispering to him. Dutch was eating a mango. Somehow, she knew he was watching, and she looked over towards his hut, smiling. Then she motioned for him to come out.

He looked back at Skipper, who was sleeping soundly, and he quietly slipped out the door.

Before turning in for the night, Skipper and Gilligan had played cards long into the night, and they had a good man-to-man talk about girls and relationships. It wasn't just man-to-man, Gilligan thought. It was as close to a father-son talk as he could have right now. Gilligan had gone to bed feeling little less confused about his feelings for MaryAnn.

Now, he headed over to the table where she was sitting. He reached over and scratched Dutch's ears and greeted the little monkey, as he sat next to MaryAnn. Then Dutch clutched his mango, chattered to his friends and disappeared up a tree leaving MaryAnn and Gilligan sitting alone in the moonlight. They looked at each other shyly for a moment. Then, much like she had done in the hot tub, MaryAnn wound her arm up and around his neck. He scooted closer. He closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her.

"SKIPPPPEEERRRRRRRRR!", Ginger yelled. "SKIPPER, PROFESSOR, EVERYONE - COME QUICK!"

Gilligan frowned. Why was Ginger in his dream, and why was she yelling for Skipper and Professor. Gilligan opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying in his hammock and the sun was shining bright. Whatever her problem was, she had lousy timing, he thought.

"EVERYONE – COME ON – THERE'S A BOAT! OFF THE NORTH SHORE! Ginger yelled.

At the mention of a boat, Gilligan's eyes went wide, and he stumbled out of his hammock.

Everyone was coming out of their huts and running to Ginger at the edge of the jungle. "What is it, Ginger?" asked Professor, calmly. "Exactly what did you see?"

"You've got to hurry. It's a yacht, heading north. I couldn't light the signal fire. I didn't have any matches." She cried.

Skipper took control – "Professor, Ginger, you two come with me back to the beach. I've got matches. Mr. and Mrs. Howell, you two head to the west beach – there's a signal fire set up there, too. Light it. Maybe if they turn northwest, they'll see it. Gilligan, MaryAnn – you two head up to the cliff on the east side. Gilligan, that SOS sheet we made is folded under the big rock. You know the one?"

"Yes, Sir." said Gilligan. "You can count on us. Come on, MaryAnn," and as the rest of the castaways scattered, the two friends took off running through the jungle as fast as they could. Gilligan took the lead, though MaryAnn wasn't far behind. They ran uphill as fast as they could, and when they got to the top, both of them were gasping for breath.

Gilligan rolled the rock and retrieved the SOS sheet that they had made a few months earlier, for just such an occasion. He grabbed one corner and tossed the other side to MaryAnn. They could see the yacht pulling further away from the island and started jumping up and down and waving frantically, screaming for help even though they knew no one could hear them. They held onto the top corners of the sheet, the bottom held down by their feet. The sheet flapped strongly in the wind, but MaryAnn and Gilligan held tight.

MaryAnn was still waving furiously and yelling. Gilligan had stopped, seeing it was futile. As the yacht continued to pull away, their spirit deflated. Tears started rolling down MaryAnn's cheeks. Gilligan looked at her sadly, then he looked down towards the north beach. He could just barely see Skipper and the others still fanning the signal fire, not ready to give up yet.

"MaryAnn, they're too far. Look – it's just a speck now." He pointed out. He took the sheet from her and folded it back under the rock. MaryAnn stood there with her arms folded across her chest, the tears flowing freely. He was standing there wondering what to do, when suddenly she threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, with her face buried into his chest. He tensed up at first, then realized that his friend needed comfort. So he nervously put his arms around her and held her. They stood there like that, motionless, until she had cried herself out.

As her sobs subsided, Gilligan hugged her a little closer and lowered his head down to hers. That movement made her chuckle suddenly, and he looked at her, curiously. "What?" he asked.

She said shyly, "You haven't shaved yet this morning. You're scratchy."

Gilligan realized that he hadn't shaved, nor put his shoes and shirt on. "Well, Ginger's yelling woke me up." He answered. "I didn't have time for any of that stuff." Then he remembered how his scratchy cheek had affected her a few days earlier, and he grinned shyly.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked suddenly and seriously. "I'd like to show you something, but you HAVE to promise not to tell ANYONE."

At that moment, realizing that he was still hugging her, she would have promised him anything. "Okay," she answered. "I promise."

"Come with me," He said, as he took her hand and led her back down the trail. They came to a fork, but Gilligan didn't take her left or right. He climbed over a fallen tree and almost reversed directions, taking her through a thickly-covered ferny area. "Be real careful coming around this corner," he advised.

They were coming to a stone wall, that being part of the wall below the cliff they were just up on. "Hug the wall here, it gets real windy". She could see what he meant. She was getting a little scared, but trusted Gilligan not to lead her anywhere too dangerous. As they came around the wall, suddenly, they were on a secluded little ledge that she didn't even know was here. It was hidden from view from up on the topside, and the jungle trees hid it from view from the beach.

He looked around conspiratorially. "This is one of my hiding places. You know, when you guys can't find me. Usually, if I'm not in my lone wolf cave, I'm here. You won't tell, will you?"

MaryAnn assured him that she would never tell and then she crossed her heart. He motioned her over to the right side of the ledge and sat down. "The ground is soft and spongy here. It's kind of mossy. It always feels cool on a hot day." He was smiling. The wall behind him had moss and vines growing up it, there were some bushes with some seeds and flowers on them, and despite the sun shining down on them, it felt deliciously cool there.

"It's so beautiful up here," she said, looking all around and sitting down next to him. "Gilligan, thank you for bringing me here. I miss Kansas so much, and I miss my aunt and uncle and all my cousins. But you always make me remember what an amazing place we're living in."

He grinned and looked away, suddenly feeling shy again. He looked down at the water below. "Did you get a chance to hike Diamondhead when you were in Waikiki?" he asked. She shook her head "no". "Well, when you're up at the top, if you look north, you see Waikiki Beach and all the hotels. But at the bottom of the crater and a little to the left, it looks a lot like this view here. See that light-colored rock formation there? That could almost be the little lighthouse." He was looking at the view with such longing, so she reached out and took his hand.

He looked at her hand holding his and then up at her. He left his hand in hers, and continued talking. "I went up there one day with Scotty and Donny. That was such a fun day. It was a Wednesday. I think, maybe, that Sharon was home sick because Donny was home and not in daycare. I was getting ready to go meet Scotty for the morning. Well, Donny came up to see me just as I was leaving, so he asked if he could come hiking with us."

He shifted his position and looked out over the spectacular view again. "I had to warn him that there were lots and lots of steps we had to go up, and even a couple of tunnels, too. That just made him want to go even more. Luckily, Sharon said okay. So we took the bus into town to get Scotty." He reached over to a nearby plant and pulled some seeds off that Professor had told him were edible. He tried a couple, held some out to MaryAnn, and then continued.

"So we get Scotty and got back on the bus to Diamondhead. When you get inside the crater, the trail is really a path with railings and lots of steps. It's easy climbing, and it's really neat. Scotty had brought his camera, so he could take pictures of some of the flowers we saw, but Donny saw a bird that he wanted a picture of. It was real pretty – a gray back and a white stomach, but it's head was red." He scrunched up his face. "I can't think of the name of it right now. So, Donny wants a picture of this bird and Scotty says he'll take one. But every time he tried to take the picture, the bird would hop around backwards. Donny and I were laughing, but Scotty was getting frustrated." Gilligan started giggling at the memory.

"So we get up to the top, and you have to go through this bunker and kind of have to crawl through the bunker's windows to get to the observation platform." As Gilligan is telling her this, he is pantomiming the maneuvers to get through the opening, and it makes MaryAnn chuckle. "And then, there's fencing to keep you from falling over the edge. The view is crazy, though. The water is all these different colors, like, depending on how deep it is. There's light turquoise and greens and blues. It's one of my favorite places on the island." He sighs.

"There was a nice, old man up there, and he took a picture of me, Donny and Scotty. It was getting pretty crowded up there. When we started coming down, we sort of got in the middle of this group of old ladies. I think it was a sightseeing tour or something. Anyway, as we're going down the steps with all these old ladies, Donny starts singing '100 bottles of beer on the wall'. I was gonna stop him, figuring it would bother them, but then some of the old ladies joined in. Before you knew it, the whole big group of us were singing, and we sang it all the way to the bottom. I think we sang three rounds," he said, grinning.

MaryAnn smiled back, and then laughed at the thought of these three buddies singing about beer with a bunch of old ladies.

Gilligan looked down at her hand, still holding his, and smiled. Then he shouted, "Brazilian Cardinal. That's what it was called." She laughed again, and he grinned, proudly. "Anyway, we took the bus back to Kalakaua Avenue, which wasn't far from Alika's place, so _of course_, we had to end the day with an ice cream show-down. We let Scotty do it, too. Donny still won, though," he said, chuckling.

"Yeah, then, a couple of days later, Scotty showed up at my apartment. He wanted me to take him down to see Donny, and then he gave Donny a wrapped present. When Donny opened it, it was a frame with two pictures in it. The one of the three of us at the top of Diamondhead, and one of the backward bird shots." He laughed again at the memory. "Donny was thrilled."

MaryAnn laughed heartily. "Gilligan, I love your stories. Thank you for cheering me up."

He stood up and took both her hands in his, and pulled her up. "You're welcome. Promise me, again, that you won't tell anyone about this place, okay," he pleaded as he helped her up.

"I promise," she repeated. And she put her hands around his neck and pulled his head down to meet hers, and she sealed it with a kiss. It was a quick kiss, though not as quick as his on the beach the previous day. Gilligan straightened up and looked at her, as she lowered her hands so that they rested on his shoulders. They stood there for a minute like that, not talking. Gilligan gulped and took a step back.

"We'd probably better get back to camp. The others will be looking for us if we don't show up soon," he said reluctantly.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed. "It's barely ten a.m. and it feels like it's been the longest day, doesn't it. The others are probably all feeling pretty bad about missing that yacht."

He nodded and took her hand as they wormed their way back around the windy corner. When they got into the jungle again, he let her hand go, and they walked back side by side, each lost in their own thoughts.

Gilligan's thoughts were scattered. They went from his friends in Honolulu - to the missed rescue - to the pretty girl walking next to him – to his big Buddy and how he must be feeling right now over the missed rescue.

When they got back to the compound, it was as they had feared. The others were all sitting around the table, sullen and somber. Skipper jumped up when he saw them approaching. "Gilligan, Little Buddy, I was beginning to wonder if something happened to you."

"We're okay, Skipper. We just stayed up there for a while, talking."

Yes, Skipper," MaryAnn added, "We're sorry to have worried you. It's just that I was so disappointed over the missed rescue, and Gilligan was telling me stories to cheer me up."

Skipper watched as Gilligan got a chair for MaryAnn to sit down, and then sat on the bench next to her. The two sailors made eye contact and Skipper gave Gilligan a slight nod and a wink.

Gilligan gave him a bashful grin, and, as he picked up the pitcher of mango juice to pour some for himself and MaryAnn, he completely missed the cup . . . poured it all over the table . . . dropped the pitcher . . . stood up and knocked over the bench, which landed on Mrs. Howell's toe . . . and continuing with a domino effect all around the table . . .

There was a chorus of "GILLIGAN"s as the castaways were jumping out of the way, trying to avoid injuries and juice stains. Gilligan glanced, wide-eyed, at MaryAnn and shrugged, while she put her hands over her face to hide the fact that she was laughing. And as they both backed away from the table, he started laughing, too, and he took her hand in his.


	9. Castaway Spam Jam

_The Spam Jam in Waikiki is a real annual event, that is used to raise money to aid the homeless on Oahu. I don't know if it existed in the 60's, but for the sake of my story, I chose to use it. I had the pleasure of attending the 2010 Spam Jam and, true to Gilligan's word, it was a doozey ;)_

* * *

><p>Skipper was down at the beach a few days later, collecting some driftwood for the campfire supply. He had the wheelbarrow almost full and was rounding a bend on the western shore, when he saw a box floating up on the surf. He ran into the waves and pulled it up onto the beach. Slashing open the wrapping, he pulled up the top of the box and looked at the contents<em>. WooHoo<em>, he thought. _This is_ _going to be good!_ And he piled the box on top of the driftwood and headed off for the compound, whistling.

He ran into Gilligan on his way back. The first mate had the yoke over his shoulders and was hauling some water back to the compound. "Watcha got there, Skipper?" asked Gilligan. "What's in the box?"

"Well, I'm thinking lunch, Little Buddy," answered Skipper with a grin and a wink, but that was all he would say. The two buddies walked back together, with Gilligan talking a mile-a-minute about their old navy adventures. "Remember Dutch, Skipper?"

"Mmm-hmmmm"

"Well, there was this one day, on the carrier, that Baxter and Clooney were pushing me around in the galley, just 'cuz I bumped into the table and spilled Baxter's coffee, and he jumped up and yelled at me and then I fell backwards into Clooney and Clooney pushed me off of him into the table again, and then Dutch came in and grabbed Baxter and Clooney by the collars and shoved them out of the galley, and then . . ."

"Gilligan?"

"Yes, Skipper?"

"We're here."

"I know."

"Then go dump your water into the barrel, while I call the others to show them what I found."

"Yessir. And then Dutch came and . . ."

"Gilligan! Go dump your water!"

Gilligan stomped off to the water barrel muttering under his breath and shooting glares in Skipper's direction.

"Good morning, Gilligan."

Gilligan turned quickly and sloshed water all over MaryAnn, who was approaching on his right.

"Oh, I'm sorry, MaryAnn," he said, scrunching up his face.

"Ooh, Gilligan," she whined. "Now I've got to go change. I'm soaked."

"I'm sorry. You aren't sore at me, are you?" he asked, with a pout. "You'll still go butterfly hunting with me later, won't you?"

She sighed. "Of course, I'll still go," she said with a smile. "I guess I'm just a little grumpy today. I'm so sick of fruit and not looking forward to another fruit salad for lunch."

"Well, MaryAnn," Skipper called over, "Maybe this will cheer you up. I have something new for lunch." And he had a huge smile on his face.

As the others all gathered around the table, Skipper opened up the box and started pulling out cans of Spam.

"Good Lord," shouted Mr. Howell. "The man is mad! He wants us to eat dog food! See here, Captain, I am NOT that desperate."

"Pipe down, Howell. It's not dog food – it's meat . . . well, something like meat."

"This is great, Skipper. Now we can have our own Spam Jam right here on the island," shouted Gilligan.

"Jam?" asked Mrs. Howell. "Like jelly?"

"No – no – no," answered Gilligan, shaking his head. "A Spam Jam is a street party in Waikiki. Vendors come from all over the island and prepare spam dishes – everything you can think of - all made with spam."

"What, exactly, is the purpose of a Spam Jam," asked Professor, with a grin, but clearly interested.

Skipper answered, "It's actually used to fund food banks for the homeless in and around Honolulu. It's become something of an annual tradition. Say, that gives me an idea. Who's up for a challenge – we each take two cans of Spam and see what we can come up with. Seven different Spam dishes." The whole group greeted the challenge with enthusiasm.

For the next two hours, the castaways were scurrying here and there – in and out of the supply hut – hiding ingredients and being sneaky and suspicious. In addition to preparing his dish, Gilligan also went decoration-nuts. He made a big banner that said "Castaway Spam Jam" and hung it between two trees, and then he made his own version of streamers out of vines and flowers. In the end, it made the compound look quite festive.

When they all gathered for lunch, each brought out their dish and set it on the table. They congratulated Gilligan on his decorating job, and he stood at the head of the table grinning, proudly. Then he clapped his hands together, looked wide-eyed, at the table laden with Spam dishes and licked his lips and, rubbing his hands, made a "nummy-num-num" noise.

Skipper's dish looked and smelled wonderful. He had taken his spam, sliced it into french-fry style slivers, added some roasted crab meat and some sliced wild onion and sauteed it in the skillet.

MaryAnn took her spam and sliced it into even rectangles, then she took a pineapple and sliced that. Taking all her slices, she grilled them over an open fire, and put them into poi rolls – much like a spamburger.

Ginger showed off her usual skill in the kitchen, and boiled her spam along with some mango, and mashed it to the texture of mashed potatoes.

Lovey Howell showed a surprising skill, as she diced up some fresh vegetables, spam and a few oysters and made a sensational chowder.

Her husband also surprised everyone with his concoction of spam and coconut, shredded and mixed into one of MaryAnn's pie crusts that she had prepared ahead of time (there would be one less coconut cream pie for dessert that evening.) He baked it into a delicious, steaming meat pie.

The Professor showed great culinary skill by taking slices of spam wrapped in thin seaweed and roasting them in banana leaves.

When Gilligan revealed his dish of "candied spam", the castaways were not surprised at his selection, though they were surprised at how good it actually tasted. He had diced up his spam and added a few handfuls of nuts, then dumped in a fair amount of sugar and caramelized it over a fire. The sweet/crunchy texture turned out to be one of the more coveted dishes of the day.

The castaways made a regular party out of it. They played the radio and sampled each of the dishes. They even topped it off with some ping pong matches.

* * *

><p>Later that afternoon, as MaryAnn and Ginger were starting the dishes, Gilligan showed up at the water barrel, holding the butterfly nets with a hopeful look on his face. MaryAnn took one look at him and started giggling. "I'm sorry, Gilligan. I can't right now. I really should do these dishes."<p>

"I can help," he offered.

"Ummm, no thanks," answered Ginger. "Why don't you go with him, MaryAnn. I'll get these done."

"Really, Ginger?" MaryAnn said, a little surprised. "Thanks," she said with a huge smile.

"Yeah, thanks, Ginger," Gilligan happily chimed in . . . very happily indeed.

As MaryAnn and Gilligan headed towards their favorite butterfly hunting ground, the Professor came around the corner of the hut. "That was nice of you, Ginger," he said.

"Nice has nothing to do with it, Einstein. Get over here and start drying," she said with a sexy grin. He chuckled and picked up a towel.

* * *

><p>MaryAnn and Gilligan were on their hands and knees, quietly sneaking up on a beautiful butterfly. MaryAnn was biting her lip, and Gilligan had the tip of his tongue sticking out, as they got closer. Gilligan slowly lifted his net and, with a surprisingly graceful motion, swooped the butterfly up.<p>

"Yay, Gilligan!" MaryAnn squealed. "You got him. What kind is it, do you think?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," he said, while closely examining his catch. "I'm gonna guess it's part of the Swallowtail family, though," he said, with a fair amount of confidence. He put it in the mesh cage that Professor had built for them. "Let's take it back to the Professor. He'll know."

"Okay," she agreed. "But not just yet. Let's stay out here for a while. It's such a beautiful afternoon. Tell me a story," she begged, as she stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles, leaning back on her hands.

"What kind of story?" he asked.

"Umm, how about a Spam Jam story? Tell me about some of the Spam Jams you've been to?"

"Well," he chuckled. "I've only been to one, but it was a doozey. See, they close off the whole street to the traffic. Like I said before, there's dozens of vendors who set up tents all down the street selling Spam cooked every which way. Although, I think we came up with a few new ways today," he said, laughing.

"They even set up stages on each end of the street, and bands and dancers put on all kinds of shows, hula dances, and stuff like that. There's tiki torches all up and down the sidewalks, too. That makes it really pretty." He was talking quietly, with a smile, and his eyes were bright.

MaryAnn watched him with a smile on her face, admiring his dimples and his thick eyelashes. He caught her eyes, and she blushed.

"There's people in costumes, too," he continued. "Oh and even street performers." He shifted position, and glanced at the Swallowtail, putting his finger up against the mesh.

"So anyway, that night, I was walking up the Avenue, eating a Japanese spam dish, and I heard someone calling my name. It was my buddy, Dutch, from the carrier. He was with . . . ummm I think his name was Jensen – another guy from Texas that was stationed at Pearl. So, they were on their way over to Moose's for a drink and asked me if I wanted to come along."

"Wait – wait – wait - - you went out for drinks with those guys? YOU?" MaryAnn laughed, surprised at his admission.

"Yeah," he said, mildly affronted. "I'm old enough." She just continued to giggle.

"So we get into Moose's and it was really packed. The guys ordered some beer. But I really don't like beer, so I was just gonna order a root beer. Dutch was like – 'No way, Little Guy – you're gonna be a man tonight. If you don't like beer, how 'bout some iced tea.' I looked at him like he was crazy, and he _was_ kind of grinning like a mad man. Iced tea? How will that make me a man? Anyway, he looked at the waitress and ordered me a long island . . . I didn't know what that was, but when she brought it to the table, it sure was good. I guess I sucked it down pretty fast, but it was so good that I ordered another. I drank that one real fast, too. I wanted more, but Dutch told the waitress no more for me." And he pouted.

"Oh no," said MaryAnn, wide-eyed. "If he was saying no more, you must have been really drunk."

"All I know is that when I stood up, all of Waikiki turned on its side. I held onto the bar stool for a minute, but then I just started laughing and ran outside. The music was just calling me back to the avenue. The sad thing is that I really don't remember much more about that night – not really from my own memory anyway.

"Dutch sent me some pictures a few weeks later. Let's see . . . there was one of me tackling the guy in a giant Spam can . . . there was one of me running across Germaine's stage and chasing the hula girls and" at this he dropped his voice to a whisper and grinned, "there was a security guard chasing after me in that one."

MaryAnn was laying on her side laughing, and Gilligan couldn't help laughing, too. "Then there was one," he continued, "where I ran up to this big Hawaiian guy on a bench and gave him a wet willie. I don't know how that didn't get me slugged." By this time, MaryAnn's laughing was just wheezing sounds and her stomach hurt. Gilligan, still laughing, kept going. "There was one that Jensen must have taken, because in it, Dutch had picked me up and thrown me over his shoulder. It's foggy, but I think he was trying to get me home to my apartment. Anyway, I'm over his shoulder and he's trying to walk, but I was holding onto a street sign so he couldn't get anywhere.

"In the last picture, I had somehow gotten behind the counter at one of the Japanese vendors' and was cooking at one of those grills that they use, wearing a chef's hat. There were flames all around, and the Japanese guy was yelling behind me."

MaryAnn had stopped making any sounds at all and had tears on her cheeks, holding her arms over her stomach. "Oh Gilligan, what an adventure!" she sighed when she finally caught her breath. She rolled over onto her back and looked up at the clouds.

Gilligan threw himself down in the grass next to her, still laughing, and they looked at each other. He scooted over closer to her, and she bit her lip, nervously. He got up on one elbow and grinned. She grinned back. Then faster than she could process, he grabbed her arms, pinned her down and gave her a wet willie. She started thrashing, kicking her legs and screaming, while he laughed heartily. Then he took off at a run, cradling the caged Swallowtail.

She finally caught her breath, worked her way up to her feet and stumbled along for a few feet before she could start running after him. But, she still couldn't stop laughing. By the time she got back to the compound, Gilligan and Professor had the butterfly on the table and Professor's insect book out. Gilligan looked over at her with a mischievous grin.

She approached the table and sat down next to Gilligan, shoving her shoulder into his and bumping him down a few inches, making him giggle again.

"I think you're right, Gilligan," Professor was saying, examining the butterfly closely, completely oblivious to the roughhousing going on across the table. "I'm going to guess that you've got a Citrus Swallowtail here. A very nice specimen, indeed." And the Professor walked back into his hut, carrying the butterfly cage in one hand and still reading the book that was in the other.

"Thanks, Professor," Gilligan called out between giggles. At this point, MaryAnn had grabbed his hands and, trying to hold them tight with one hand, was tickling him with the other, while he was trying to shift his body away from her and practically falling off the bench and under the table. He finally worked his hands away from her, and fully under the table now, hopped onto his hands and knees and came out the other side. Only to find MaryAnn waiting for him with her hands on her hips and a fierce scowl on her face.

He laughed and scrambled backwards out the other side, up on his feet in a jiffy and took off running for the jungle, again. Looking over his shoulder, and seeing MaryAnn laughing, but still in pursuit, he tried to zig when he should have zagged. He hit a tree, bouncing backwards into her, and they went down in a jumble of arms and legs. Laughing and giggling, as they picked themselves up, MaryAnn checked Gilligan's head for bruises. Seeing none, she gave his forehead a kiss for good measure, anyway. Then, she sauntered off to her hut to clean up for dinner.

Gilligan stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her go, then took a look around at the Spam Jam decorations still hanging. With a grin on his face, he placed his hat back on his head, flipped the back rim, and walked into his hut, hollering to Skipper, "Hey Big Buddy, how 'bout a game of Crazy Eights."


	10. For He's A Jolly Good Fellow

Professor Roy Hinkley was fully engrossed in his latest experiment. With Ginger in a lab coat and her black glasses taking notes, they both had their attention focused on the test tubes, beakers and various steaming liquids scattered across the lab table. They were oblivious to the impending disaster as Gilligan walked into the hut.

"Hi, Professor, Hi Ginger," Gilligan called out as he leaned over Professor's shoulder, causing the scientist to startle and bump into the table. "What're you working on?"

"Ohhhhhh, Gilligan," Ginger whined, as a bubbling, foamy blue mixture spilled onto her lab coat.

Professor grimaced. "A failed experiment, apparently," he said.

"Oh, that's too bad," Gilligan said. "How come it failed?"

Professor just glared at the clumsy first mate. "Gilligan, don't you have something else you could be doing right now?"

"I guess I could go see if Mr. Howell wants me to caddy for him," Gilligan mumbled as he backed out of the doorway.

Fifteen minutes later, he found the Howell's on their way to the hot tub. Mrs. Howell had slept poorly the night before and had woken up rather stiff and sore.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Howell, Mr. Howell," Gilligan called. "I was wondering if you two would be playing golf today. I could caddy for you."

"You're a fine lad, Gilligan," Howell replied, "But we are heading to the hot tub for a spell, and you know what they say, boy, "he said, jabbing at Gilligan with his cane, "Three's a crowd."

"That's okay, Mr. Howell. I can take a hint," he said, sadly. "Maybe Skipper needs some help," and he walked off in the direction of his and Skipper's hut.

Skipper, meanwhile, was working on a secret, little project for Gilligan's up-coming birthday. He glanced up just in time to see a flash of red as Gilligan stepped out of the jungle headed in his direction. _Oooof_, he thought. _Can't have him coming in here just now. _

"Hey, Little Buddy," I thought you'd be out climbing trees or something with MaryAnn." Skipper said as he met him at the door, blocking any view into the hut.

"Well, I would be, but when I got up this morning, I couldn't find her anywhere," Gilligan answered with a pout. "What are you doing, Skipper? Could I help you?"

"Well, now, I'm not doing anything. I, um, well, I have a bit of a headache and was going to lie down for a while. I could really use a quiet nap, so if you don't mind, Little Buddy, why don't you go fishing, or something."

Gilligan's hands were in his pockets and his shoulders slumped. "Sure, I get it. No one wants me around today," he said as he hung his head and turned away.

Skipper felt bad turning him away, but he really wanted to finish his project and let it dry good so that he could wrap it. He'd make it up to his little buddy.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, over on the other side of the volcano, MaryAnn was on a quest. She was pretty sure she saw some berry bushes out here when Gilligan had shown her his hidden ledge. She was making him a cake for his birthday, and wanted some special berries to decorate it. She had her basket hooked over her arm and was working her way through some unfamiliar terrain.<p>

* * *

><p>Gilligan still hadn't found MaryAnn, and he was feeling pretty lonely and sad this morning. He decided to head up to his hidden ledge and pout for a while. He was getting close to his destination when he heard a scream – a scream that said someone was in danger. <em>That was MaryAnn<em>, he thought, horrified.

He ran in the direction of the scream, being careful as he saw that he was approaching some steep drop-offs near the cliff. "MaryAnnnnnnn, MaryAnnnnnnn, where are youuuuuuuu?" he hollered.

"Gilligan, help me, help, I'm falling." She screamed.

"Hang on, I'm coming," he answered. And he broke through some brush, to see her about ten feet down one of the drop-offs, hanging desperately onto a small sapling growing out of the side. Her arms and face were all scraped and bleeding, and she looked like she couldn't hold on for much longer.

"I hurt my arm," she called up. "I don't think I can pull myself up, even if you throw me a vine," she cried.

"Okay, Okay, I'm coming down." He was frantically winding some vines together for strength. He tied one end around a sturdy tree and, making sure it was long enough to reach her, tied the other end around his waist. Then he lowered himself over the edge, slowly working his way over to her.

"Hurry, Gilligan, please hurry. I'm slipping." He looked over at her. Her hands were, indeed, slipping off the sapling. With a surge of adrenaline, he swung himself over to her. He reached her just as she completely lost her grip. She let out a shriek as she felt herself start to fall, but Gilligan was suddenly right below her, catching her. As her weight hit him, it stretched the taut vine.

They both held their breath as they swung, slowly bumping the embankment. He had his arms around her tight, and she was crying. "Put your hands out, try to steady us," he whispered, afraid to talk too loud. She put one hand out, but held the other across her stomach. She thought she dislocated her elbow, and it was making her quite nauseous.

Gilligan positioned himself just under her and put his feet onto the embankment. "I need to let go of you with my right hand, MaryAnn. Take your left, I know it hurts, but try to hold onto the vine. Keep your other hand out to steady us, going up." He grabbed the vine up high with his right hand, and still gripping MaryAnn with his left arm, his other hand found the vine. With his feet braced on the embankment, supporting her weight, they started slowly walking up, using the vine to pull themselves up.

Gilligan's muscles were burning with the strain, but he kept a brave face and kept whispering encouragement to MaryAnn (and to himself), as tears streamed down her cheeks. "That's it. Just a little more. We're almost there, you can do this."

When they finally reached the top and crawled over the edge, they just laid there for a few moments, MaryAnn still crying softly, Gilligan gasping for breath. Then he realized that they were laying together, her in his arms. He tried to shift and sit up. She crawled onto this lap, unwilling to let go of him with her good arm. He wrapped his arms back around her and held her until she calmed down.

When she finally slipped off his lap and sat down facing him, he wiped her cheek with the edge of his sleeve. "You okay, now?" he asked.

"Ouch," she said. "I think I dislocated my elbow."

"Can you walk, though?" he asked.

"I don't think so, not yet. I'm still shaking," she answered.

"That's okay. We can wait a while. What were you doing out here alone, anyway?"

"Well, that was supposed to be a surprise. I was picking those berries that you like." She answered.

"Oooh, where are they," he asked, licking his lips.

"I dropped the basket when I fell," she said sadly. "It fell all the way down." Gilligan crawled carefully over to the edge and looked down, sadly, as if hoping he could somehow reach them.

They sat there for another twenty minutes. Then MaryAnn was ready to try standing, though her legs were still shaking from the encounter. They walked around the small clearing for a few more minutes. Finally, she said that she was ready to try getting back to the compound.

"If you need me to carry you, I will," Gilligan offered. She smiled up at him.

They started walking, slowly. They got about halfway back to the compound, when MaryAnn needed to stop and rest. Gilligan led her to a small brook, so that she could get a drink.

"Well, that certainly was not the adventure I wanted this morning," MaryAnn said with a small grin. "Thanks for coming to my rescue, Gilligan." Then her face crumpled and she started to cry again. "I don't know how much longer I could have held on." And she put her head on his shoulder again, crying and shaking because she just couldn't stop thinking about what a close call she had.

"Don't cry, MaryAnn," Gilligan said, awkwardly patting her back. "You're okay, now. I got you."

Once again, after MaryAnn had calmed down, they started walking. She went only a little ways when Gilligan realized she wasn't beside him. He stopped and looked back, and she was sitting on a rock on the side of the trail. He walked back to her, scooped his arm under her knees and the other behind her back and picked her up. She laid her head on his chest and sniffled. He carried her the rest of the way to the compound.

When they got there, Gilligan laid her on one of the lounge chairs and went to get Professor. Skipper had seen them walk into the clearing and went out to see what was up. Before long, all the castaways were hovering over the young farm girl. Mrs. Howell and Ginger were trying to hug her, Professor was trying to get them away from her so that he could wrap her elbow, and Skipper was pacing back and forth in a fret over one of his charges being in danger, and he hadn't been there to help.

Then he spied Gilligan, hanging back from the crowd. He approached his little buddy. "Gilligan," he said, twisting his hands. "I don't even want to think about what might have happened to that sweet little thing if you hadn't been there, if I had kept you busy this morning, instead of sending you off."

Looking at the scene before him, Gilligan suddenly realized the enormity of the morning's events. His eyes teared up, and he pushed his way through to MaryAnn and sat down next to her. She looked at him with wide eyes, as he said, "The thought of hugging you scares me. The thought of kissing you scares me. But the thought of losing you . . .," and he gulped, " that scares me most of all." And at that, he gently put his arms around her and hugged her. Then he looked into her eyes, and in front of five wide-eyed witnesses, he kissed her.

Later that night, As Ginger and Mrs. Howell were clearing the table, the castaways gave Gilligan an enthusiastic round of applause and sang "For He's A Jolly, Good Fellow." MaryAnn scooted over to him and gave him a one-armed hug and kissed him on the cheek. "My Hero!" Gilligan blushed and smiled.

Then, to his surprise, the other castaways all pulled out some crudely wrapped presents and placed them in front of him. "We know it's a couple of days until your birthday, Little Buddy," Skipper said, "But we all just feel like celebrating tonight."

The Howells handed him their present, which was a large oyster shell with a ribbon around it. When Gilligan untied the ribbon and looked in the shell, there were five crisp $100 dollar bills. Gilligan laughed and hugged each of them. Then Ginger and Professor handed him a large gourd, dug out to form a flask. "This is the final result of our experiment this morning, Gilligan," Professor said, chuckling, "AFTER we kicked you out." Gilligan unplugged the flask and smelled the liquid.

"What is it?" he asked, curiously smelling it again.

"Bubble Bath," said Ginger with a purr, as she ran her fingers through his hair. Everyone, including Gilligan, laughed.

"Gilligan," MaryAnn said with a slight frown, "I was supposed to make you a special cake, but it's going to have to wait until my arm feels better. I'm hoping by your real birthday, I can do it."

"That's okay, MaryAnn. I can wait." And he slipped his hand into her good hand and gave it a little squeeze.

Then Skipper coughed to get Gilligan's attention. And he handed Gilligan his present. Gilligan grinned bashfully and opened it. Then he gasped. Skipper had made him his own cribbage board. He carved the board in the shape of the Minnow. The different rows for pegs had been stained with various berry juices to add a little color, and he had carved in anchors and starfish and even a shark on one end. Gilligan ran his fingers over the carvings, with a small smile on his lips.

"Gilligan," Skipper said, "I know I'm hard on you sometimes, we all are. Sure, you mess up now and then, and kind of drive us crazy with your antics, but when it comes right down to it, I want you to know that we all love you. You're a heckuva good guy, and you hold a special place in each of our hearts."

Gilligan stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. He grinned and blushed a little. "Thanks, everyone. This sure was a neat surprise. I love all of you, too." And as he said that, his eyes flicked down to MaryAnn, a motion that was not lost to any of them. They all laughed, and with a cheer and a lot of hugs, they broke out into another round of "For He's a Jolly, Good Fellow."

* * *

><p>Two days later, Gilligan was seated at the table, polishing off a huge piece of birthday cake. MaryAnn sat next to him, with her had on his shoulder. Ever since the cliff incident, they had been inseparable.<p>

"Happy Birthday, William Gilligan," MaryAnn said with a smile.

He turned and smiled back. "Thanks, MaryAnn. You're the best."

"Then can I give you a birthday kiss?" she asked coyly. He twisted his mouth and squinted eyes, making it look like he was really thinking hard about it. She laughed and tickled him. He reached out and held her hands, laughing.

"Yes," he answered, suddenly feeling bashful. "I think I'd like that."

With that, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him the best birthday kiss ever.


End file.
